Rust & Stardust
by Malevolent Reverie
Summary: My cathexis was a precocious teenage girl who stood four foot ten in one sock. Gohan/Bulla, darkfic. Loosely based upon "Lolita".
1. Une

**A/N**: Not sure what I'm going to be doing with this-the updates will probably be slow until I finish what's been going for a while. This is a loose adaptation of "Lolita", a famous erotic novel by Vladimir Nabokov. Never read it? You should. There's also an amazing movie to watch. I won't spoil the plot details but this may be my darkest story yet and will explore the depths of men like Humbert (who will be represented by Gohan) and the motivations of girls like Lolita (who will be represented by Bulla). This isn't going to be a typical fighting/punching/big bad guy DBZ fanfic. And yes, Gohan is the main character instead of Goku. If you read "Lolita" you would know why. Goku is the utter opposite of Humbert so he just wasn't a match.

**Warnings:** Sexual content, swearing; general darkfic issues.

**Pairings:** Gohan/Bulla; otherwise all canon.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

_"It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight." _  
― Vladimir Nabokov, "Lolita"

**Rust & Stardust **

::Une ::

Regret is my creeping demon.

It was my constant companion for all those years, clinging to my shoulders; clawing duvets into my hunched shoulders as I printed my darkest secrets with a quill pen. The fire flickered beside me, casting shadows across the walls and I struggled with my shame but the monster never left my side. It whispered memories, reminding me of my failures and faults, of all the shattered promises and towns left behind in my old home. No amount of journaling ever set me free.

I hurled my quill into its inkpot, splattering my desk in black spots that reflected the image of me clawing desperately at my back to detach my demon. Years had passed. I remained a prisoner to my own soul and the sins I had committed. She was long gone and grown, living with another man while I remained with my own new family, somehow hiding my inner demons from my wife and child.

A sliver of light was cast across the floor and I whirled around to see my daughter in the doorframe. Her dark eyes widened with fear and she shrank back, hiding from my fury. But she was free from my influence. Her blackened eyes did not stir my heart in the way that blue did. Oh what I would have done to see those blue eyes looking up at me again. I would gladly sacrifice my home and possessions.

Agitated, I cleared my throat and plucked my glasses from the desk. I sat down, immediately turning my back to her and closing my journal. "What do you need?"

My hastily construed family could be pulled apart at the seams like a cheaply made sweater. There was no sort of connection between the three of us. My wife knew she was a trophy to display around other men; something to keep them from asking questions. The small child quivering at the entrance to my study was another part of the charade. My passions were elsewhere.

"Mommy said dinner is ready," the child said softly.

"Fine."

There was a brief pause before the door shut, shrouding me in darkness once again.

I leaned my head in my hands and closed my eyes to think back to before I met the seductress. There was an inciting incident that drove me to an interest in nymphets; those gloriously tempting girls who weren't quite developed into women. It was a loss. The psychiatric help I sought told me that much, though he didn't have anything else to contribute. I was a leper in my developed society.

All I could remember was a girl I encountered during childhood named Lime. We had been fast friends, curious and exploratory, and on the cusp of puberty. Experimentation became our favorite pastime and the image of her blue irises was forever imprinted on my mind. We would bathe in the lake to avoid detection by our parents, washing away the smells and touches we had given one another.

It had been innocent curiosity. Mine did not fade as I grew into adulthood. Lime became violently ill and died very suddenly, leaving me with unanswered questions and lonely afternoons. I followed the path outlined by my mother and became an accomplished scholar who languished through a failed marriage that left me homeless. My mother suggested a familiar face to allow me a warm bed to sleep in and it was where I laid eyes upon the blue-haired, rebellious, fatherless Bulla Briefs.


	2. Deux

**A/N:** Gohan is way OOC in this for the most part because he's fitting into another character's personality. Sorry if that bothers anyone but he needs to be far darker than he normally is. Some ages will be blurred-Trunks is 26 and I am not outright stating Bulla's age. She is two years older than the female lead in the novel.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Deux ::

The first woman I married had no idea what dark secrets I carried.

Erasa was tall and blonde; the ideal mate to hang from my arm. She stayed home like a good woman, cooking and cleaning while I attended meetings at Capsule Corp. in my neatly pressed suit and tie. I held no true affection for her and I attributed that to the explanation for our failed marriage of sixteen years. She was animated but rather vapid while I was much more restrained and scholarly, making for a constant clash of personalities.

The night she left me I was well-prepared. I was sitting in my favorite chair in our enormous living room reading a sales report from Capsule Corp. and expecting not to be disturbed. She knew better than to approach me when I was working. Unfortunately for her, I was working around the clock.

A sliver of light preceded her entrance and I glanced up briefly from my papers. My glossy leather shoes were still on but I had loosened my tie and set my jacket aside. The door was behind me so I calmly flipped to the next page of the report, idly ignoring her attempt to get my attention. The hinges squeaked when she leaned unsurely on them and presently I heard her bare feet moving toward me.

We had carpeted most of the house a year ago. Erasa complained over the hardwood making her feet cold. It wasn't in my nature to argue—my mother had done enough of that to last me a lifetime. I merely nodded and wrote the check to get my wife off my back. During that time, money was dispensable to me. I never imagined she would try to rip it from my hands. I'd been blind during those long years, withdrawn in an attempt to hide from my creeping demon.

There was a smell of lavender and Erasa spun on her heel to stand before me, hands on her hips. She was thirty, six years my minor. It wasn't much but it made her a hair more tolerable. I peered at her over the rim of my glasses, flinching at the sight of her bright yellow dress that left little to the imagination. She dressed like a teenage girl. It infuriated me. I wanted her to cover up.

My wife raised her chin proudly. The glittering diamond pendant I bought for our fifteenth anniversary rested perfectly between her collarbones. "I've been talking to my mother, Gohan. This isn't working."

No emotion. I had known our marriage was doomed from the start but I blindly hurtled into it, struggling to resist my other temptations. Erasa was not exactly my "_type_".

"Why do you say that?" I asked, returning my attention to the charts before me.

"We haven't had sex in three months." Erasa rested her weight on her hip, holding up her lean fingers to count the reasons why she wanted to sever our ties. "All you do is work." Another finger. "You don't argue. It's like being married to a sponge." Another undeserving finger. I was not a sponge. I absorbed nothing from her immature behavior. I tuned out. She stomped her foot like a child. "When I talk, you don't even listen to me!"

"Hm?" I said.

"You should go. I don't want to see you."

In truth, the house meant little to me. It was replaceable. However, my ex-wife jamming her bony fingers deep into my pockets to buy tequila with her friends produced a violent, gruesome rage. I would pace back and forth angrily just thinking about her chatting with her fellow harpies about me.

Our marriage had finally cracked under the pressure. I rose from my chair without looking at Erasa and went upstairs to our bedroom to collect a few things before leaving. It was obviously impossible for me to get everything that night but I wanted to be sure I was prepared for at least a week away. She stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes watching silently as I collected clothing and work materials. I snapped my suitcase shut and inclined my head politely to her before leaving.

All of my vile thoughts were concealed on my laptop that was under a heavy encryption. I had taken a night class at a local university to hide it as best as I could. If Capsule Corp. found out what darkness I held in my heart they would surely fire me. Worse, they would contact the police.

There was only one place for me to go at that point. With my suitcase clutched in one hand I took to the skies, leaving my home and gruesome wife behind me. It was a useful trick my father taught me when I was younger; when he wanted a different path for me in life. But my mother was strong-willed and insistent that I get a good education. I was closer to her for that reason.

The city lights sparkled out of sight below as I flew toward Mt. Paozu, clothes flapping in the gentle breeze. Usually I put on a better ensemble for flying but I had work to finish and no time to change. Erasa would pester me until I agreed to leave. I wanted to get her out of my hair and return to studying the graphs Trunks had given me at the morning meeting. I had no time for a woman's emotions.

My personality had shifted violently when I turned twenty. Erasa and I married and I realized my sickening dreams would never come to fruition—I could never have the type of female I wanted. I hid from my family and friends, resorting to pushing them out to hide the truth. The cheerful demeanor I inherited from my father was gone like a wisp of smoke, leaving behind a calculating genius.

The small home I had been raised in was spewing grey smoke into the air. The lights were still on. I landed softly in the front yard, adjusting my tie and smoothing my hair. I tried to stay away from home. It reminded me of the peculiar past I had trailing behind me like a slug's slime. Alien overlords, foreign invaders, trips to Hell, repeated deaths… none of it fit with my present life. I was trying to blend with the rest of humanity instead of letting them see what I really was.

There were two monsters within me. One was an alien; a Saiyan that occasionally clawed his way free from my soul. He got me involved in fights that had killed me on more than one occasion and brought me to the brink of death on countless others. The second was far worse. I had learned to control my alien half but the second beast within me had an insatiable appetite that I could not curb.

Because, you see, nothing is better than the real thing.

I stepped back when the front door flung open and held firmly to my suitcase upon seeing my mother stumble out, cheeks rosy from the influence of alcohol. She used to hardly drink but enjoyed it much more after I decided to cut her and my father from my life. They also lived with my 25 year old brother, Goten, who was much happier behaving like a buffoon.

"My baby boy!" mother crowed, hurrying forward to hug me. She was getting older. Grey lined the fringes of her black hair. "You've finally come home to see me after all this time!"

I grimaced. "Mother, please. Erasa threw me out of the house."

Mom suddenly pushed me back, eyes burning with fury. "_What_?! How dare that harlot try to pull something like that! I'm going to tell Bulma right now and we'll both go down there and pummel her! I told you not to marry a city girl but you just didn't believe me, Gohan!"

Presently, my father and brother appeared. Goku was tall and muscular, a token bubble-brained bodybuilder. If Goten didn't have a different haircut and a slighter build they would have been indistinguishable from one another. Both of them ran out to hug me as well and dad scooped us all of the ground, making mom scream at him to stop before she threw up.

Dad ruffled my hair. He was grinning like usual. "What's goin' on, Gohan?"

"It rhymed!" Goten announced, pink in the face like mom. "Dad made a rhyme, mom!"

Apparently, I had come at a bad time. I winced and detached myself from their drunken laughter. "I just need a place to stay for a while until we figure this out. I'll _gladly _get an apartment."

"Erasa threw you out?" dad asked. He was supporting mom, who had forgotten her rage already. "Did she finally realize you're a stick in the mud?"

"Goku!" mom admonished.

Goten was roaring with laughter while I glowered silently at my father's goofy face. My brother collapsed on the ground, clutching his stomach and rolling around in the dirt. I glanced down at my leather shoes. They wouldn't fare well in the mountainous terrain.

Mom cleared her throat. "Gohan is a very smart and responsible man. But…" She hesitated, tapping her fingers together. "There isn't much room here, sweetheart. We can keep you for the night but you'll have to look for a place tomorrow. Maybe you should get back to your roots. Bulma would probably love to have her brightest employee living in Capsule Corp."

The reek of alcohol was everywhere. I nodded tersely and followed them inside, forced to tolerate my father wrapping an arm around my shoulders and asking if I wanted to take a bath together like old times. Goten waved his arm eagerly to volunteer and they both laughed at one another, afflicted by the same type of insanity. I sat down on the couch in our old living room. It was exactly the same.

Dad sat beside me and offered me a beer that I declined. He leaned back and threw an arm over the couch, invading my space yet again. "Y'know, I've been married to your mother for uh…" He paused, scrunching up his nose in deep thought. "Uh… how old are you, Gohan?"

"Thirty-six, dad."

"Oh, right. So uh I had you when I was uh…" He stopped again and whispered numbers to himself as he struggled to complete basic arithmetic. It was a miracle that I even resembled a normal person with such a doofus responsible for my upbringing.

"Twenty!" mom yelled from the kitchen. "We've been married for 38 years, you buffoon!"

Goku snapped his fingers as it clicked together in his tiny brain. "You're right, Chi-Chi! It's been 38 years since I married your mom and I haven't looked back since."

"Except when you died for seven years." Mom was faster than dad. Smarter. She always had a retort on the tip of her tongue.

"Aw, well you can't blame me," dad laughed, rubbing the back of his head. He took a swig from his beer. "I didn't want anyone else coming here and causing trouble. Besides, Gohan's smart and stuff and Goten stayed home like you wanted. Right? I did a good job."

My mother came back and they all talked and ate and drank. My suitcase was lying across my lap and I had both hands protectively covering it, constantly fearful that someone would stumble upon my hidden secrets. It was dangerous to write down how I felt when my feelings were so wrong.

It was impossible for me to unwind with them. I couldn't relax until I met her. It was a breath of fresh air having my delusional feelings confirmed and believing them to be reciprocated. They were all surprised when I finally came back out of my shell and developed into the old Gohan.

I sat beside my father with my lips pressed in a firm line that night, wondering how I would broach the subject of living with the Briefs family. At that point, I hadn't seen her since she had been born. I didn't remember her. I worked with Trunks and Bulma and sometimes saw Vegeta but the youngest member of their family was largely unknown to me.

Soon she would become the maniacal glint in my creeping demon's eye.


	3. Trois

**A/N:** Ahhhh this is so freaking creepy. I kind of hate it but such is the life of a darkfic writer. Thank you for the reviews, guys! :D

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Trois ::

"Goodness, Gohan, you dress so formally nowadays. Sometimes I miss when you trotted around in that ridiculous purple getup Piccolo gave you. But I guess my baby boy has turned into a man, with suits and brimmed hats and ties that blend with the rest. Hold still, dear. Your tie isn't right."

Morning had come. Somehow I survived the evening with my backwoods family and slept well enough on the couch musing over ways to ask Bulma for lodging. Mother stood in front of me, small and mousy in her older age, and gently fixed my tie with her thin fingers. I was nearly always in a suit and tie. Erasa used to roll her eyes when I would try to wrap the tie myself and she'd slip in front of me to make sure it was done right, muttering about my independent personality.

Mom moved back, beaming. "Oh, look at you! It's hard to believe you're nearly forty." She tilted her chin up slightly and flicked lint off the front of my jacket. "And still no grandchildren scurrying around my house. I hoped you would have at least one, considering you're a genius. But children aren't exactly your forte so I wasn't holding my breath, and combined with that insufferable woman you married…"

The damage was done to my thoughts. Soon I drifted off into a daydream about nymphets; those small, pirouetting creatures who languished on the clasp of childhood; who tormented me with their rosy cheeks and unfulfilled bodies that had not yet been touched by a man or the ignition of hormones. I turned my neck several times as my mother bustled to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It wasn't the right time to ponder over my inhibited, primal desires. I had a part to play.

Goten was passed out on the kitchen table, mouth wide open in a snore. Mom patted him on the head on her way by but scowled when she saw my father sprawled backwards in his chair, teetering on the edge of the legs. His eyes were too focused on the ceiling to notice her dirty look and she stomped her foot angrily, causing the chair to tremble like it was going to collapse backwards, and dad immediately sat properly. He grinned cheekily at her and waved as I sat down between him and Goten.

Goku rested his chin against his fist and made a mockingly serious face. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Gohan? You gonna go to work or hang out with me and Goten?"

"Neither. I have an appointment with Bulma. I need a place to stay while I work through the divorce proceedings with Erasa." I winced, sipping from my mug of black coffee. It was pungent and tart; my mother was highly accomplished in the kitchen. "Though I don't see that ending well. In my haste to be married I forgot to draw up a prenuptial agreement. She'll be rooting her hands through my pockets."

"A what agreement?" dad echoed, blinking stupidly.

"You didn't sign a prenup?!" mom shrieked. She suddenly chucked the spatula she was making eggs with at my head and it buried itself within the wall with a loud twang. Dad started laughing and clapping only to receive a salt shaker to his forehead. He nursed the wound, frowning sadly.

"Divorce wasn't crossing my mind when I was twenty," I said. "It's no matter. I make more than enough money at Capsule Corp. to continue supporting my lifestyle and _yours_, mother. Erasa can take what she wants and spend it at whatever seedy bar she wants. I have no need for a lavish lifestyle."

My mother threw up her hands in defeat. "You're so damn passive, Gohan. You're going to let this little tramp take everything she wants without a fight? She hasn't worked a day in her life! At least I kept a clean house, made clothes, and cooked a good dinner." She pointed to my father who was now occupying himself with reaching across the table to prod my unconscious brother. "And I was married to this fool the entire time, through every death and every absence."

Dad looked up like a deer in headlights and quickly sank back in his chair, bowing his head in shame. I stared at him for a few moments and shook my head. We all wondered how my mother did it. My father died for seven long years, leaving my mother to raise a newly born Goten as well as me, and he hardly seemed to notice the time had passed. Bulma mentioned a few times that she would have moved on from Vegeta if he died and he returned the remark with his biting vitriol.

I waved my hand dismissively. "I'll assemble a team of lawyers. Doesn't Bulma have several for the mishaps Vegeta gets himself into? Trunks and Bulma are rarely at the meetings anymore—as a matter of fact, I think it's been several years since I saw either of them."

The only sound was the hissing of the eggs on the stove and Goten's soft breathing. I glanced up from the table to see my mother's back turned to me and Goku's smirk wiped off his face. They both suddenly felt deathly serious. Flustered by the changed atmosphere, I cleared my throat.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Was he finally arrested?"

My mother turned and placed a bowl full of scrambled eggs in front of us. Goten immediately awoke and scooped until his plate was full while dad sat quietly, suddenly pensive. My mother patted her hands on her apron and turned back to the oven without answering me. I frowned, surprised by my father's lack of an appetite. Had I said something wrong? None of us particularly liked Vegeta.

"He died," mom said after a while.

Goten kept shoveling food in his face and the distinct scent of bacon wafted through the kitchen, reminding Goku he needed to eat as well. My father morosely scooped scrambled eggs onto his plate and then the sound of forks scraping on ceramic was added to the somber chorus.

"Vegeta is _dead_?" I echoed in disbelief. "What in the hell happened to him?"

"Got some kinda virus. He died really quick; coughing up blood and stuff." Goten chewed with his mouth open. I wanted to slam his jaw shut. "It was brutal. Bulma was upset for a few years and that's why she stopped going to Capsule Corp. Now she just stays behind the scenes with Trunks and pulls the strings. Shouldn't you know that? You're the V.P."

I ran a hand through my hair, shocked to the core. What could have possibly killed Vegeta so quickly? "Well I hardly had contact with them for so long that I didn't stop to think about it. I figured Bulma's age contributed to her not wanting to be involved and Trunks was always a hands-off president. Christ, I never expected Vegeta was dead. That's really too bad."

We continued breakfast in silence while I ruminated over the new knowledge. It might be easier to move in with Bulma than I thought before. My biggest concern had been Vegeta refusing to let me live under their roof but it was only temporary until I finish severing my ties with Erasa. I stirred my coffee and mother began to discuss harvesting the radishes with Goku. Hm. Maybe that was why Goten still lived at home. Our father still needed a sparring partner, after all.

After I helped my mother clean the dishes I left, giving her a brief hug and only nodding to my brother and father. They all watched me fly off and I promised I would come back to visit. It was difficult. Our ties were strained from the years spent apart and who I was conflicted with who they were.

The flight to the headquarters of Capsule Corp., where I assumed Bulma and Trunks still lived, was peaceful and cool. I landed outside their home and straightened both my tie and glasses again, suitcase in hand. The company was placed deeper in West City toward the business district; it had expanded well beyond the walls of Bulma's enormous home. My shoes clacked on the cobblestone path as I walked. Before I had touched the doorbell the door swung wide open and I was face-to-face with the ex-president of Capsule Corp.

Bulma looked small and far less intimidating. Her blue hair was cut short but fraying; perhaps from stress or simple old age. She squinted at me and squealed with delight when she recognized my appearance, quickly leaping up to wrap her arms around my neck. I stumbled back in stuttering shock and dropped my suitcase on the ground to keep from dropping her.

"Gohan!" she crowed. "It's so good to see you! It's been _far_ too long."

"Uh, yeah, it's good to see you, too. After all, you keep me employed."

"Look at you, the perfect son Chi-Chi always fought for." Bulma stood in front of me, admiring my attire with her dulling blue eyes. She looked exhausted. "Why don't you come in? Trunks is out running errands for me but he should be home shortly. I hope you went to see your mother."

We stepped inside her elaborate home to the living room with a cartoon flickering on the screen. I wondered who was watching it. Bulma was far more mature than my father and never wasted her time with silly things meant for children while Goku would spend entire afternoons with Goten laughing to the point of tears during a _Spongebob_ marathon. Was she losing her mind?

Bulma led me to the modernized kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a black and white tiled floor. I sat at the island and politely declined her offer for a drink. She sat across from me, still smiling from ear to ear. Her skinny wrist had bangles dangling from it that reflected the light.

"What are you visiting for?" she asked. "I know I was your favorite growing up but you must have a reason. Is it Piccolo? I haven't heard from him since you married that Erasa woman."

I shifted awkwardly. "Well, that's why I'm here. Erasa and I have had a, ah… a bit of a falling out. I'd like to have somewhere else to stay while we work through the legal proceedings and decide what belongs to who. If it isn't too much of an imposition to have me remain here during that time, I would appreciate it. Of course, I can pay rent or help you with other things. It could be deducted from my paychecks."

"You're getting a _divorce_?!" Bulma asked, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Yes, it seems that way."

"What did your mother have to say?"

"Nothing I wasn't expecting." I shifted again, growing a bit impatient. "So what do you think?"

She puckered her lipstick-laden lips and leaned back in her chair. "Hmm. Well, Trunks isn't living here anymore so I don't see why I'd need to check with him. Sure! You can have the guest room. I'll take 10% of your pay to cover rent and food expenses."

"Oh, that's alright, I can… cook."

"Sure," she laughed, "I bet you can. You're used to Chi-Chi or Erasa making dinner, right? The butler can whip something up for you or I could but I can't promise mine will be any good." She pushed back her sleeve to look at a watch and sighed. "But I have to see what an Earth happened to Trunks. Do you mind watching the house for a little while? We can all go get your things after."

I agreed in earnest, seeking to stay on Bulma's good side. She went to the door and grabbed her coat while instructing me to relax and get something to eat. She offered to bring back a consulting lawyer but I declined, choosing to wait until Erasa was present to begin the proceedings.

Then she left and I thought I was alone in the former headquarters of Capsule Corp.

Thoroughly exhausted from pandering to my juvenile father and brother I headed toward the stairs, loosening my tie from around my neck. I could faintly remember the outline of the building and knew that the guest room was at the end of the second floor. My shoes clacked against the hardwood floors as I silently made my way to my new home for conceivably a month or two.

As I set my hand upon the doorknob I heard the door to my neighbor's room slowly creak open. The scent of cucumber preceded her poorly stifled giggle.

"I heard you got dumped. Sucks to be you."

The sound of her voice was enough to get my heart racing. I looked up from my door and felt a strangling desire; I wanted her at that instant and I was certain I would die without her. Blue eyes brighter than the clearest ocean pierced my darkness and her blue hair was tied in a loose tail that hung over her shoulder, bare from a lazily collapsed sleeve. She was wearing a pink and white polka dot dress that hung to her knees but only had one sock on her foot. The other was bare; toes painted green.

The imperfections of a nymphet were her greatest asset. She was full of shining innocence, completely oblivious to my eyes riveted to her exposed bony shoulder. And I could not speak. I stood in utter silence to bask in her presence. If I wasn't careful she might flee.

She raised an eyebrow. "Huh? What's your problem? Can't be polite?"

"I… I… Who _are _you?"

My nymphet raised her chin proudly. She was small—not even five feet. I was a bit over six. "I'm Bulla! You never met me, did you? I know who you are, Gohan."

But it was a fleeting image. She giggled again and slipped back inside her room, leaving me cold and staring in the hallway. The scent of cucumber lingered. I heard her bed creak from within her room.

It was my first taste. My creeping demon stirred.


	4. Quatre

**A/N:** Ah shit, this was sort of short. :/ Sorry, guys. I've been back in my original fiction again. Blehhh this makes me miss my Goku darkfics. Gohan's shweet and everything but I do miss a twisted Goku.

**Warnings:** Mild sensuality, I guess.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Quatre ::

There I lay, gazing up at the plaster white ceiling with my arms curved behind my head. The crickets were beginning to sing outside and darkness was spreading across my bedroom but all of my muscles were so tightly wound that I worried standing up would shatter me. It was a good time to get ready for bed. Bulma wasn't back with Trunks and I had a few things to unpack. A shower and an evening reading Voltaire would help clear my mind of its deleterious thoughts.

The television in Bulla's room was playing a teenage sitcom full of high-pitched voices and recorded laughs that were occasionally broken by her soft giggle. Her bed would shift and I my breath would catch in my throat, burning madly until I heard her settling in again. It had to be fate. Divine intervention had placed me in the same home as Bulla Briefs during my looming divorce.

Downstairs I heard the door open and slam shut and Bulla leapt off her bed to hurtle from the room. I clenched my jaw, bracing myself for movement, and stiffly rose from my bed just as the door flew open.

Her eyes pierced me. Fearful of what I could do with my hands I quickly sat down on my bed once again and restrained my palms under my thighs as Bulla panted and grinned and oh god, she smelled like cucumbers. My heart raced when she bared her teeth at me in a wide grin. She had changed. Now her feet were completely bare and she was only wearing a long nightgown with intricate designs.

Bulla frowned and held out her long, thin arms. Bracelets dangled from her wrists but they weren't metal like her mother's: they were wound bits of string. Friendship bracelets. "Aww, I know I spooked you but you don't need to be so dramatic. C'mon, let's go see mom and Trunks! I bet they brought cake home for us."

I stood too fast and she jolted back a step in surprise but laughed it off and vanished from the door in a blue blur. Every inch of me wanted to give chase but I knew it wasn't appropriate when the others were in the house. I twisted my neck to release some tension and followed Bulla down the stairs, where the sound of Bulma scolding her could already be heard.

They were all standing around the island. Bulma was unpacking groceries and Trunks was assisting, maneuvering items into the freezer as they were handed to him. I struggled to avert my eyes from the youngest member of the Briefs family and approached Trunks to shake hands with him. He looked much older with stubble on his chin and his hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"I hear your wife threw you out," he said with a smirk. "Can't imagine how your mother reacted."

I rolled my eyes, beginning to help them put things away. Bulma slapped my hands to make me stop and I rubbed them with a sarcastic wounded expression. "The way you're thinking. I'm afraid Erasa will get her fingers quite deep into my pockets before everything is said and done."

"Don't worry, Gohan," Bulma said breezily, "Capsule Corp. _always _protects its employees. We'll make sure we get the finest lawyer in the East. Just be happy there aren't any kids involved in the mess. We already have this little brat scurrying around. I'm not sure if I can tolerate another."

"Hey! I do all my chores and I only go over my data limit on my phone a few times a year." Bulla was perched on the counter, swinging her lean legs carelessly. I fixated my eyes on the refrigerator. "Why don't you have any kids, Gohan? Doesn't Mrs. Son like them?" She smacked her gum, giggling. "I mean the old lady that lives with Goku, not—"

"Bulla Briefs!" Bulma admonished.

"Terribly sorry about her," Trunks said. "She's a twerp."

"It's okay. There's no denying my mother is old and she lives with Goku." I sat down in a chair to hide my trembling legs and organized what was left on the counter to occupy myself.

Bulma patted Trunks on the shoulder and sat across from me. "Speaking of Goku, how's he doing? And your brother? I talk to Chi-Chi occasionally but obviously the two of them are far too busy."

My nymphet moved. She spun from the counter to plop into the chair beside her mother and leaned her head on her shoulder. Bulma shrugged her off with a scowl and Bulla rested her chin on the counter to stare up at me with her baby blues, lashes full of far too much mascara. She was young.

"Largely the same," I replied. "Neither of them does much beside train and pester my mother for food. I had the unfortunate happenstance of stumbling into their weekend get-together. Am I missing pieces of my memory or was Goku an avid drinker in his younger days? I never saw him touch a beer bottle until a few years ago. Goten doesn't particularly surprise me."

Bulla blinked, now resting her temple on her fist. "You talk smart."

"Yes, honey, that's why he runs most of mommy's company," Bulma said offhandedly. She focused on me as well and suddenly, I felt intimidated. "No, I never saw your father drink a drop. Well, he might have by accident during the early days. Chi-Chi was generally against it. Hm. I wonder why he's deciding to start now? Maybe your mother is finally driving him insane."

Trunks sat on the other side of his mother and clasped his hands together. He was wearing a suit like mine. I wondered what he did, because he definitely wasn't at Capsule Corp. "I should try to get Goten out of the house and into the city. He'd thrive here. But I've been so damn busy with my other prospects that I've hardly had the time to enjoy the nightlife myself. Care to get some drinks, Gohan?"

_No, I don't want drinks. I want your pubescent sister._

"Ah, why the hell not?" I said. "Shall we collect Goten as well? Mother would be happy to have him out of the house for the evening."

"I wanna go!" Bulla squealed.

"You're fourteen!" Trunks rubbed his forehead irately. "Why don't you drink some apple juice?"

The two of us got up from the table and Bulla pursued us to the stairs, wheedling and begging to be brought along. I could hardly believe how unctuous she was—Bulma was sitting at the counter still, idly sipping wine from a glass and staring out the window. If it wasn't for Trunks, I imagined Bulla could do whatever she wanted. What a shame. It would make pursuing her very difficult.

It must have been obvious that I was the weaker one because Bulla chose to follow me into my bedroom. I opened my suitcase and she leapt on the bed, pouting her lower lip and crossing her arms. My collar felt tight. No, it wasn't right for me to take her. She was young and her mother had agreed to let me live with them for the time being. How could I do such a thing to Bulma? To Trunks?

The nymphet kept her wide blue eyes on me while I selected a dress shirt and black pants to wear, pretending to hardly notice her presence. She swung her legs. Her head tilted side to side. I neatly set my clothes on the bed and snapped my suitcase shut, promptly sliding it underneath my bed.

If I wasn't careful, Bulla Briefs would be the death of me. I needed to sidle on the fringes of her awareness; always present but never truly there. It would keep her family off my back and leave her unawares when the time came to make my move. I loosened my tie, swallowing hard. It wouldn't be easy but I needed to be calculating and calm. A bold step could spell disaster.

Bulla whined when I reached the doorway. "C'mon, can't you talk to my brother? He likes you."

"No. You're not even eighteen." I shuddered, hesitating with a hand on the doorframe. "It isn't like bars keep a section with coloring books."

The battle was won for the time being and she flopped back dramatically to throw a hissy fit. I quickly left then went down the hallway into the bathroom, immediately locking the door behind me. The faint sound of the Briefs family arguing again reached me but it was soon drowned out by the water cascading down the shower. I ran a hand through my hair and took off my glasses. I'd narrowly escaped. If she had touched me…

Thinking of her was making me tremendously uncomfortable in my clothes. The yelling descended into laughter promptly followed by more shrieking and I heard something crash on the floor. I took off my suit and carefully hung it over a drying rack for safekeeping before quickly removing everything else and stacking the articles together. It would be better to vent my frustration before I left. The last thing I needed was Erasa's lawyer sniffing around and discovering I'd bought a prostitute.

My carnal side had lain dormant for some time, which was peculiar for a man with Saiyan blood. I'd become so involved in my work and studies that I hardly paid attention to my physiological desires. Erasa could try as hard as she pleased to entice me and I would be hard-pressed to notice her, even when she pranced around our bedroom in a sheer negligee. She would sit on my lap and take the book from my hands, murmur and slide her palms up my chest to my shoulders.

It did very little for me. I found it hard to arouse myself at the sight of a grown woman. But my insides were reacting to Bulla; coiling and burning with lust that would certainly drive me to make an ill-thought decision. I placed a palm on the wall, closing my eyes and imagining her standing in front of me.

Soon, the only sound was water sliding down my back and running through my hair and the distinct squelch of my hand relieving unbearable lust. It was warm enough that I could imagine… no. I gritted my teeth and tightened my grasp, struggling to finish before I taunted myself with thoughts of the unobtainable. It was wrong; so wrong, but there was nothing else I wanted more.

If only I could come to completion without agonizing over her—over her pouting lips swollen with chewing gum or her spindly legs swinging at the edge of my bed or her blue eyes watching in awe as I spoke, hanging on to every word. My hand curled into a fist against the tiles and I stifled a groan. I was a monstrosity but my illness was carried out in secret. No one had to know.

"_Why don't you have any kids, Gohan?"_

And I thought of her while I pulsated into my own hand, spilling my viscous relief over my digits. It was difficult to bite back my groan of pleasure but I managed to quietly taper off with rolling eyes and thrusting hips. Then I stood there, panting as the shower washed away my guilt, sending it in spirals down the drain.

It was done. I had slipped across the boundary to a terrible place of uninhibited lust. There weren't many others there besides myself. Crossing back was impossible. We were men of a different caliber who had been deemed sick by society and that stigma was enough to alienate me. Never again would I lie beside a grown woman and pretend to enjoy her form pressing against me.

I washed my hair and body in silence. My creeping demon had hardly abated.


	5. Cinq

**A/N:** This is so much fun to write jsahfewhfiuweh

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Cinq ::

The tip of my finger was pressed to the peak of an iceberg in my rum, swirling in drowned patterns while the painfully loud music boomed in the background. I'd hardly had a thing to drink—I'd never been particularly fond of alcohol—but my brother and Trunks were well on their way to bringing women home with them. I idly twirled the cube around in circles as the vibrations of the bass created ripples across the whirling amber surface. My mind was not at the seedy bar.

A baritone laugh roused my attention and I glanced up to see the bartender shaking his head at me. I pushed my glasses up on my nose. He was younger than I with thin blonde hair and a hideous tribal tattoo set upon a bulging bicep emerging from his sleeve. He spun a towel around an empty glass, cleaning it absently, begging me to inquire as to why he found my preoccupation amusing.

But I didn't bite. I wrestled with my demon, fondly recalling imaging my nymphet in the shower. It wouldn't be difficult to convince her to do what I wanted. She was small and simple. Loud-mouthed like her mother, yes, but I knew she craved attention just as much. All I needed to concern myself with was keeping Bulma and her irreverent son far away when the chance arose. Oh, the things I would do to my fellow half-Saiyan in between my blue sheets…

The barkeep chortled to himself. "Y'know, you paid a lot for that drink. If you're gonna play with it why don't you just offer it to some woman and see where you get?"

I gazed into the crystalline liquid, clenching my jaw at the shattered daydream. What a pity. I could nearly smell her cheap cucumber perfume. "I'd prefer not to contract a vicious disease from one of you patrons. My brother and his friend have made me the designated driver, anyhow."

"C'mon, there have been women staring at you since you sat down an hour ago." The man leaned on the bar and jerked his head toward the window. "Lookit that one right over there, with the black hair. She's been eyein' you since the start. Looks like she doesn't have a drink, if you want me to give her one that your dirty fingers haven't been playing in."

"You reminded me I need to collect my entourage and leave before my eardrums burst. Thank you for the keen conversation, barkeep." I opened my wallet and set down a fifty on the table, making his eyes pop open in shock. It was nothing to me. I could've dabbed my mouth with an entire bundle of them. I stood and imbibed my beverage in one easy swig and left without another word to the dance floor.

The sensation of writhing female bodies against my own did nothing to incite my arousal. They were sweaty and many were shamelessly drunk, adding to the pungent aroma of alcohol stagnating in the air. I made my way through the crowd until I found my brother clinging to a woman with brown hair, engaged in a sloppy kiss that looked far from passionate. I cringed and saw Trunks was likewise engaged with a red-haired woman who was holding a bottle of beer in her long talons.

Goten glanced up and beamed. His face was cherry red. "Hey, big brotha! Did you come to dance with us? I bet Trunks you'd mope at the bar all night while the rest of us had fun." He apparently grabbed the woman's bottom because she squealed in surprise and jumped a few inches in the air.

"Yes, you two have had your fun," I said loudly over the booming music. "Let's get out of here before I burst a blood vessel from this racket."

"Alright, alright," Trunks said. He had his arm thrown around the redhead's shoulders. Thankfully he wasn't as unhinged as my brother. "Gohan's been a good sport. Do you girls want to come back home with us? Maybe you know someone who wants to go with my friend here. He's a goddamn genius, you know. Runs Capsule Corp. all by himself and he makes a ton of money."

"Does he now?" said the brunette. "My name's Valese and this is my friend Paris."

It was easy for me to read women's ages, since I had spent so many years calculating the nymphets that I passed by on the street. Paris appeared to be twenty but Valese hardly looked eighteen. I could deduce her exact age better under clearer lighting. She was far too old to be a nymphet but quite possibly illegal to bed, making a predicament not worth bothering with. My brother's penis controlled his brain.

The two women set out to procure me a bedmate for the evening and I waited impatiently for them to return from their snipe hunt. All I could gain sexual release from was imaging a nymphet was moaning beneath me instead of a hormone-riffled, emotional woman who would indubitably seek to take all of my wealth and possessions. I detested them. There was hair on their bodies where I didn't like it and their damn breasts were so… _round_.

They arrived at the door with another petite woman like Valese who surprisingly attracted my attention. Trunks grinned, arm still slung around Paris, as the strange black-haired girl stumbled into my arms.

I hardly caught her before her knees dropped and hoisted her back up to support her with one of my arms. Her eyes were dark and searching; there was a pink tinge to her cheeks. While the others laughed raucously I gazed at the drunken girl's round face and dark eyes, admiring the long ponytails slung over her shoulders. Oh, yes. She was a blooming nymphet. Sixteen.

"Videl was hanging out at the bar, too," Valese giggled. "We're cousins."

Trunks suddenly began to scowl. "Eugh, she looks so young. How old is she, anyway?"

My heart skipped a beat. I'd never had such a young woman before. It would prepare me to take Bulla when the precautions were set and oh god, I craved the feeling of a slippery, soft vessel around me rather than my own hand. I remained still while Videl's head lolled carelessly around.

Valese shrugged. "Old enough. C'mon, let's get going."

We left the bar and headed into the cool night. Goten and Valese sang together, swaying back and forth, while Trunks nibbled on Paris's neck until she swatted at him with a playful giggle. I frowned, fully supporting Videl while we walked. Her eyes were vacant. I wondered if she had been drugged and made an unwilling participant by her cousin, perhaps to stay in our good graces.

The drunken group piled into the backseat and I set Videl in the front before turning the ignition. They were too rowdy to bring back to Capsule Corp. and I doubted Trunks had a large enough loft for all of us. I twisted my neck and drove back to the headquarters anyway, hoping Bulma and my precious nymphet were fast asleep. I'd no idea what else to do with them. Goten never had money so he wouldn't be able to rent a hotel room with the rest of our group.

Some of the lights were still on inside. Trunks furiously shushed the women who couldn't stifle their laughter and I hoisted Videl onto my back, aware that she was finally unconscious. It would be difficult to have my way with her but not entirely impossible. I followed the others into Capsule Corp. and we were all immediately faced with a strange sight at the kitchen table.

Bulma was sitting across from my father, who had turned in his chair to watch all of us enter. Valese had herself draped across Goten and waved stupidly to them while Paris struggled to assemble herself to look more presentable. Both women were wearing revealing red dresses that hardly left much to the imagination. I shifted Videl's weight and watched with mild discomfort as Goku's eyes roamed up Valese's legs in particular to settle briefly on her chest.

The matriarch had her thin fingers curved around a cup of steaming coffee. She scowled. "Trunks, what the hell are you doing bringing your prey into my house? Your sister is sleeping upstairs!"

"I'll make it up to you, Mrs. Vegeta, ma'am!" Goten slurred as he dragged Valese toward the basement stairs. "I swear I'll do whatever ya want!"

Trunks was too inebriated to care about his mother's outrage. He saluted her sarcastically and brought Paris upstairs, leaving behind a flabbergasted Bulma and curious Goku. Bulma jumped to her feet a few seconds later and pursued them up the stairs, screaming to high heaven about disrespect.

Goku puckered his lips. "Gee, girls never dressed like that when I was your age." He redirected his stupid black eyes to me and blinked owlishly. "You got somebody, too, Gohan? Does she have clothes on?"

"Yes, she's fine."

"What's her name, anyway?"

"Videl," I said. "I'm going to sleep."

I'd always known my father was out to get me.

The last remaining full-blooded Saiyan rose from his chair to move closer, peering at Videl's sleeping form upon my back. I knew running would only make him more suspicious so I remained still while he circled behind me to look at her face. He leaned back and scratched his head.

"She's kinda young, don't you think?" he asked.

"No," I lied.

He looked bewildered. "Huh? Really? Well she's fast asleep so maybe you should take her home. It doesn't look like she feels very good—she's pretty pale."

I'd been found out by my dim-witted, pitiful excuse for a father. I smiled tightly at him, anyhow. "You're right, dad. I'll bring her home right now." Then, when we were in whatever little apartment she paid for with her minimum-wage job, I would have my way. No distractions. No Goku.

Bulma came trumping back downstairs with a particularly pissed-off look on her face. She took a drag from her cigarette and walked over to investigate Videl as well, gasping when she saw her. It had been too obvious that she was too young. It was better for me to bow out and feign chivalry.

"Don't tell me that poor thing was at that disgusting bar?" Bulma said. "Oh, the things teenagers get themselves into today!" She took another drag, only holding it briefly before looking at Goku. "You're heading out, right? Why don't you bring this kid home before her parents find out she was gone. Chi-Chi's not going to be happy you left here so late so I'd get a move on."

"Sure!" dad said brightly. "Where's about does she live, Gohan?"

"She was drunk at a bar, Goku," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. "Your son probably rescued her from the other buffoons. Isn't that right, Gohan?"

"Uh… yes." I gripped Videl's thin, muscular thighs tightly in my fingers. I wouldn't be able to have her. Not tonight, at least. But I would have another chance.

My father took the slumbering teenager in his arms and flashed both of us a grin before he left. I struggled to save face in front of Bulma as he flew off into the distance, once again making my life a living hell. He was awfully good at ruining me. Piccolo would pick up the pieces and mentor me like Goku never had but I had my doubts my substitute father would approve of my sexual interests.

My landlord patted my arm and her hand lingered there for a few moments. "Having you around makes me think Trunks might finally get his act together. It doesn't seem like he or Goten are ever going to behave like grown men. Loose women here, alcohol there…"

I looked down at her vacant stare and smiled tightly. "I hope so too, Bulma. Goodnight."

"…Goodnight, Gohan."

The sounds of Paris moaning echoed down the hallway all the way to my bedroom. I clung to the handle for a minute, once again becoming desperately aroused. The television turned on downstairs. My eyes flickered to Bulla's closed door, which she was sleeping peacefully behind. I curled my free fingers several times, trying to decide if taking a peek was worth the risk.

Of course it was. I was a man and I had needs.

Bulla's door was silent as it slid open to reveal her familiar room, dominated by bright colors and a silent, glowing TV at the foot of her bed. My eyes adjusted in an instant and I could see her sprawled amongst her spotted sheets, both long, pale legs exposed in the dim light. Her face had the presence of angelic bliss; lost in deep dreams and unable to hear her brother grunting down the hallway. My eyes drifted down her languid form all the way to the tips of her toes.

Then I recoiled to the recesses of my dark bedroom and for the second time that night I became a prisoner to my creeping demon. I closed my eyes and groaned freely, voice obscured by Trunks and Paris. It didn't take long for me to reach my peak and come in shuddering, sweaty growls.

As I drifted to sleep covered in my ejaculate, I heard Bulla's bed creak.


	6. Six

**A/N:** Oh my poop, thank you for the reviews, everyone! I was not expecting that much feedback. Yes, this story is going to full of curveballs so prepare yourselves. I'm also going to have another kind of theme running but I think I'll refrain from spoiling it until the end. I'm sure someone will pick up on it in later chapters. And there are going to be very few canon couples in here so brace yourselves.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Six ::

My circadian rhythms were something to be envied. Each morning I rose at seven o'clock without fail, bright-eyed and bushy tailed no matter how late into the evening I kept my eyelids wrenched apart. I would twist my spine in either direction to satisfy my bubbled vertebrae and rise to rotate my shoulders backward, likewise relieving pressure from the previous night. It had been that way for some time and Erasa streamed unending complaints about my borderline compulsive routine.

This morning was different in a negative way. I had left my home and my screeching harpy of a wife who had undoubtedly brought another man into my vacant side of the bed. Things had shifted. My _mind _had shifted to what it desired, reveling in fantasies of the small nymphet crawling into my lap while I examined Capsule Corp.'s voluminous fiscal reports. Dreaming of her innocent, haphazardly painted fingers clinging to my slacks as she pulled herself upon me, blue eyes gleaming with delight…

With a quiet gasp, I awoke at eight o'clock in the morning.

The television was playing downstairs and the smell of bacon drifted to me, clenching my stomach in uncomfortable knots. My fingers twitched and I realized I had fallen asleep with my hand down my boxers; the seam was cutting into my wrist. I grimaced and withdrew it without a second glance, propping myself up on an elbow to make sure I had woken later than normal. It was a surreal moment knowing my pattern had been broken.

There I remained for several more minutes, gazing at the red alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed. Time ticked by. It was 8:10 when I pushed my glasses on my nose and flung back the sheets to rise for the day, rubbing my clean hand across the back of my head. I shuffled to my armoire to dress appropriately enough for a cup of coffee in the kitchen: a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and slippers felt formal enough. Still shaking my head, I left the room and went to wash my hands.

Trunks was slumped across the kitchen table with his face pressed into his arm, purple hair tousled from his long evening with Paris. Bloodshot blue eyes peered at me when I padded to the cupboards to procure a mug for my necessary early morning coffee but he said nothing before the hangover claimed his attention with an agonized groan. He hardly looked like the owner of Capsule Corporation.

I poured myself a steaming cup of the caffeine cocktail, the only drug I had ever invested myself in, and took slow sips while eyeing Trunks with distaste. It was the effect my brother had upon people—he could turn a sensible man into a foolish beast with his puppy-dog demeanor and jovial tone. He and Goku consistently tormented my poor mother who still bustled around my childhood home like some kind of unpaid slave, cleaning up the mess left by unforgiving man-children.

The redhead emerged next, only clad in Trunks's dress shirt that draped around her knees. She pushed her hair behind her ear to kiss him on the crown of his skull and he risked a glance again to smile at her. Paris winked at me on her way to make coffee and I found it difficult to hide my revulsion. I sat at the island, holding my cup of Joe between freshly washed hands. How despicable. She was a harlot.

"Where's your mom?" Paris asked as she sat beside her beau. "I wanted to apologize to her for last night. That was pretty rude of us to barge in unannounced." Then she frowned and flicked Trunks in the ear, making him jerk upright in his chair. "You never mentioned you had a little sister, either!"

My mouth ran dry. Yes, Trunks had a younger sibling; the image of femininity and the epitome of innocence whose blue eyes were deeper than any I had ever known. I closed my eyes while I sipped my coffee. _Bulla_. All I had the privilege of seeing were her long, beautiful legs and subtle hints of a strong collar bone framing her narrow shoulders that tapered into graceful girlish arms, coming to completion at blissful small hands with short fingernails…

Trunks scowled, nursing his wounded ear. "I try not to talk about my sister with women I want to take home with me. They left, anyway. Bulla has school and mom's going shopping with one of her friends like she always does. I'll let her know we're both sorry if she doesn't knock me out first."

So they were gone for the day. That was well enough, considering I had business to attend to with Erasa and paperwork to review regarding Capsule Corp. I needed a lawyer to settle my divorce before I concerned myself with luring Bulla, even if it was the forefront desire in my mind. I set my mug down and both Trunks and his woman looked to me in intrigue, like I had made an announcement.

"We should drag my brother home," I said. "After that, I need to connect with a lawyer and revisit Erasa to collect a few more belongings. Capsule Corp. isn't going to run itself, after all."

"Consider yourself on vacation for the next few months." Trunks rubbed his eyes, smiling tightly from the pain ravaging his skull. "We'll still pay you, of course, and make sure your legal expenses are covered. Like my mother said, we take care of our own. You'll be too distracted with ripping Erasa's hands from your pockets to worry about budgets or sales goals."

"It's really no problem," I began, "I don't mind—"

"Gohan is going through a divorce?!" Paris asked with wide eyes. "But… _why_? You're so mature and old and stuff. Is your wife crazy or something?"

"Crazy hot," Trunks muttered.

Again he was silenced with a fingernail to the ear and I returned to my coffee, mulling over his words. Paid vacation for months was a rare gift but I genuinely enjoyed my work. Perhaps a few weeks to collect myself would be best. I could calculate my next move with Bulla in the meantime and decide where I was going to live when Erasa and I were fully divorced. A townhome seemed nice.

But the quicker the proceedings moved, the quicker I would lose access to my nymphet. I pulled the newspaper in front of my eyes to look distracted while Trunks and Paris giggled to one another about their escapades in bed. The thought of losing her to the gangly hands of a hormonal teenage boy sent me reeling in fear. She would be spoiled like a pie left too long on the sill.

I'd just begun helping myself to the plate of bacon when a shrill scream shattered our peaceful breakfast. We all turned to see the basement door burst open and Valese tumbled into the hallway on her hands and knees, wearing a camisole and rather decorative red panties. She quickly scrambled to get to her feet and I slowly lowered my coffee mug to the counter, watching the scene over the rim of my glasses. Trunks stiffened as well. We could both see it.

Purple handprints decorated her skinny arms, dancing all the way down her body to her quivering thighs. Her legs trembled and she swayed, covering her mouth to hold back vomit. My ears pricked at the sound of rapid, angry footsteps coming up the stairs and Trunks suddenly stood.

Goten was only wearing his unzipped pants and his upper body was covered in a sheen of sweat. He wiped his forearm across his head and aggressively approached Valese, hands curled into fists. She shrieked in terror, scurrying away from him as fast as possible to the door, where she vanished in wide-eyed fear. My brother moved to pursue her but Trunks stepped in his way and held him back.

Paris didn't ask what happened. She bolted out the front door after her friend, calling her name and still shamelessly half-naked. I blinked and watched Trunks struggling to calm my brother down while Goten spewed vitriol from his sweaty mouth, pushing and shoving against his friend.

"What the hell did you do?!" Trunks snarled, finally grabbing Goten by the jaw. "Valese sure as hell didn't come here looking like that!"

My brother tore himself free and paced back and forth like a caged animal, glowering furiously. "That girl is a fucking bitch. I should've snapped her neck when I had the chance instead of letting her out of here. Look at her, crying for attention like a _fucking _drama queen." He wiped his nose with his forearm this time, shaking his head. "Oh man, I'm gonna destroy her."

"Calm down and tell me what happened. She's gone. Get a hold of yourself."

"Everything went great last night," Goten said. He'd slowed down, now only panting like a slight lunatic instead of a berserk gorilla. "She was good in the sack and everything; I could tell that when we met. I woke up this morning and obviously I wanted a blowjob. Do you know what she fucking did? Refused. So I _obviously _made her and she bit me right on the dick!"

I was suddenly overcome with a choking fit, nearly spitting coffee all over my paper. Goten shot me venomous look while Trunks stared at him incredulously. Surely he wasn't that stupid? No, no, I was giving him far too much credit—he was Goku's pride and joy, after all.

Trunks pinched the bridge of his nose in his fingertips. "Jesus Christ. I'm going to find them and try to fix this before Paris calls the police. Gohan, can you get your brother out of here? I don't want him finding them before I do."

Once again I had become my brother's keeper. I sighed heavily and nodded anyhow, fully aware that the situation needed to be resolved so it didn't escape to the press. Trunks turned to leave and paused mid-turn to swing back and punch Goten in the jaw, sending my brother skidding across the kitchen floor to the cabinets near my feet. I finished my sip of coffee to clap appreciatively while Goten watched his friend leave in wide-eyed shock. The front door slammed shut.

"There goes my peaceful morning," I said as my brother recovered. I fanned out my newspaper, tutting like a mother hen. "You've certainly adopted the role of a drunken hillbilly quite well, Goten. Mother will be pleased to know both of her children are success stories."

"Fuck off," Goten said as he wiped blood from his mouth. "What happened to Videl? Did you start talking about your lame job and bore her to death?"

"I'm still a married man," I replied offhandedly, never taking my eyes from the article I was reading. I finished off my coffee with a polite lick of the lips. "But I can assure you I wouldn't have woken her after a night of passionate lovemaking with my penis on her mouth. It's best to use gentle touches and wait for them to come to you—throwing them around has a tendency to ruin the mood."

My brother stood up and tore the newspaper from my hands to rather rudely throw it on the floor. "You're such an arrogant prick. I bet you have a body stash somewhere in your house that Erasa found."

Yes, Goten was indeed fulfilling his role of being a stupid hillbilly.

We left Capsule Corp. fifteen minutes later and I kept a close eye on my brother during our flight back home. He tried his best to fly far ahead of me but I still retained my strength from the training I had endured as a child and wouldn't allow him to shake me. When we landed outside of the house he stalked inside with his arms tight beside his body. I followed casually, hands in my pockets.

Goten went straight upstairs, presumably to take a shower, and I meandered to the living room to rest before going home. I had all day to finish what I needed to. I could afford to babysit him for a little while. I yawned and closed my eyes to relax. Bulma had probably brought my mother out on a shopping trip because my father still couldn't afford to provide for her. It was pitiful.

The stairs creaked. I smirked to myself.

"Surely the guilt doesn't wash away that quickly?" I called. "Honestly, Goten, the water didn't even—"

My father was hanging his arms from the rafters in the ceiling with a surprisingly blank expression on his face. He looked up at me and smiled but it didn't quite touch his eyes.

I cleared my throat, utterly unsurprised to see him without a shirt. The sight still sent me to my feet, straightening my dress shirt. "Oh, sorry. I thought it was Goten."

"Hm?" my father said vacantly.

"Ah… keep an eye on him. He was involved in an incident at Capsule Corp. with Valese. I have some matters to attend to in regards to Erasa."

"Oh… sure thing, Gohan." He smiled widely. He could've been drunk.

An innocent question popped into my mind when I grasped the door handle. "Did everything work out fine with Videl? No one seemed to remember her this morning and I figured it was better to let it go. If you brought her home, I'd like her address so I can apologize."

Goku's head twisted to the side and he puckered his lips, thinking deeply. It was a familiar expression but I had never seen it with a tinge of mischievousness. "Yeah, yeah, I tucked her in to bed and everything. She had a tiny apartment with a cat. It meowed a lot… I get why your mother doesn't want pets now. They don't like being pet, either. She lives at 16 Dolores Street."

I opened the door. "Alright. Thanks, Goku."

When I left, he had resumed gazing dreamily into space. My creeping demon had a hunch.


	7. Sept

**A/N:** Dun dun DUUUUUUN. Also, to the reviewer who suggested I write a Goku/Videl fic, I kind of have two, lol. They were the first ones I ever wrote on hurr. I'm not an enormous fan of them. You're going to get a taste of that pairing in this fic. Everyone has a pretty big part to play, except my poor, dear Chi-Chi. I'm trying to get her more involved, though! But this is gonna be a long fic.

**Warnings:** Mild lime.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Sept ::

A note was lying on the kitchen table when I returned to Capsule Corp. to elicit Trunks's help in finding a suitable lawyer. The clack of my shoes on the hardwood floors echoed through the empty house as I scanned the hastily scribbled words on a scrap of paper. He'd recovered both Paris and Valese and succeeded in calming them down, which would protect us from the authorities. I curled my lip in disgust at the last line of the note:

_Valese wants to see Goten to talk to him. Can you believe it?_

Yes, I had full faith in the innate fragility of a woman's heart. They were delightful as dancing nymphets but that wonder was lost in the advent of puberty, quickly marring their demure temperaments to become emotionally-charged, estrogen fueled abominations. I had watched my mother tear her own soul to pieces over my father's repeated absences and while I cared deeply for her, my level of respect was consistently notched at the lowest rung.

Women were truly pitiful creatures, constantly crawling back with tear-streaked cheeks to the man who caused them the utmost agony. I turned my neck as the echo of my mother's sobbing alone in her bedroom began to echo through my mind like a drum, deep and penetrating to the bone. Goku had no sense of commitment to her. I had sat on the grass in bewildered shock when he refused to return after Cell's death. Piccolo had forced me to stand up again.

Aggravated, I flipped the note over to see Trunks had mercifully wrote down the name and address of a lawyer who represented Capsule Corp. in their litigations. He was already expecting my arrival so I wasted no time in collecting my paperwork and hailed a taxi to begin the divorce process. We would draw up a contract together and I would present it to Erasa. Her eyes were looking for dollar signs.

The lawyer had his practice stationed in his own professional building deep in the city rather than in Capsule Corp.'s adjunct building where I performed my day-to-day work. I gave the driver a generous tip and entered the small, unassuming business to meet with Herman Hayes.

Herman was a short, bustling man with thinning gray hair that curved around his balding head. His demeanor was pleasant and as professional as I had expected: we strictly discussed the divorce and nothing more. There was no mention of Trunks, no needless questions as to whether or not I could give him an intercompany boost; I was relieved to focus on ridding myself of Erasa forever.

We shook hands afterwards and Herman assured me the contract was as air-tight as possible, claiming it had kept his own ex-wife from scraping the lining of his pockets. I thanked him and left to hail my next taxi to my home, where I hoped Erasa was still lurking. I'd left my car and quite a few other things I needed in my excitement to escape her overwhelming sobbing.

It was quiet outside as usual. I straightened my tie and clenched my jaw to prepare myself for the inevitable tears Erasa would try to spill across my suit. She was always trying to slip beneath my skin like a parasite. My wife was beginning to remind me more and more of my petulant father.

The door opened before I had a chance to knock and Erasa flung her arms around me to begin the begging and pleading; the waterworks I detested. Repulsed, I wrenched free of her flimsy grasp and entered the house to the kitchen, where I sat at the new mahogany table we had purchased. My wife hung near the entranceway with her fingers in her mouth. I could hear her nails splintering. She was wearing one of my dress shirts and nothing more. A foul harlot.

I beckoned to her and opened my briefcase. "Erasa, it's impossible for me to sign this contract when you're all the way over there. Come sit in front of me. I'm even giving you the house."

Moments later she had flung herself at my feet and spiraled into a hysterical fit. I sighed, removing my glasses with one hand to rub my eyes as my soon to be ex-wife clung to my calf while desperately blubbering that she had been wrong. We had argued before, of course, and she had threatened to leave. I knew money was what kept her by my side and it had never bothered me until I met my nymphet and realized there were finer things ahead.

"Please, Gohan," she sobbed, mascara running down her cheeks, "you can't go! I'm so sorry! I never should have made you leave; I was just really upset because… because…"

"Herman advised that I grant you twenty percent of my pay after taxes each month. You can continue your way of life with no interruptions and I will pay the property tax on your home every year. I'd like to collect several of my belongings before I leave but the vast majority means nothing to me. Sign at the bottom whenever you have control of yourself, Erasa."

"I love you! You can't do this to me! I don't care if we don't have sex anymore; I've been so lonely the past two nights I don't think I can carry on—"

"_Erasa_, you know I'm a very busy man," I said sternly. I tapped the marked spot that would terminate our marriage. "Come now, I haven't got all day. You're free to do as you please after this."

Then her long fingers were desperately pulling at my dress pants to drag her small form into my lap, but her eyes didn't gleam and her fingernails were a uniform shade of white. Erasa took my face in her hands and kissed me with as much passion as she could muster and I remained still, unmoved by her advances. Her tongue swirled around mine and soon she was straddling my hips in a pathetic bid to regain my affection.

"Please stay," she said.

Responding could have an effect upon our divorce agreement. Thus, I closed my eyes and waited patiently for Erasa to swivel and sign the papers but she kissed me again instead, drawing me forward until I nearly fell out of the chair. I instinctively caught my weight on the table and Erasa's long legs wrapped around my waist in a vicegrip—she knew I could hold her. I growled irately into her mouth.

Sex with adult women was a bit of a paradox. My body would react after enough touching and moaning like any other man's and I was capable of completion. Despite that, it repulsed me to the core. I attributed my blindness in the throes of passion to my Saiyan half that was always eager for activity that pumped hot blood through my veins. Still, when I was aroused I did not seek them out. It was far more satisfying to close my eyes and delude myself into believing my hand was a wide-eyed nymphet.

We collapsed in bed in a tangle of eager limbs, each feeding a vastly different need. Erasa pulled off my jacket with as much gentleness as possible and I slipped open my belt in the meantime, immediately pressing forward to grind my hardness against her relenting softness only protected by thin panties. She whimpered and whined when I grew more aggressive, rapidly engorged by my recent frustrations.

It wasn't nearly enough. I roughly turned Erasa over, uninterested in seeing her face or breasts, and pushed her head into the sheets. She squealed in a high-pitched alluring way that reminded me of Bulla's excited laughter and I couldn't restrain myself any longer. All I needed was an outlet to keep my burning desire from leading me to the wrong choices. Bulla needed more… _grooming_.

"Gohan, I'm not—"

I tightened my grasp on her head until she squealed again. "Shh, you mustn't talk."

Another disconcerting piece of grown women were there rather bulbous sex organs that appeared infected during the height of arousal. Erasa shifted her hips as I examined her without touching; I would surely vomit if anything besides my member eased between her pink lips. However, my pulsating erection couldn't wait any longer and I unceremoniously plunged inside of my wife.

Her spine arched in pain but I hardly noticed. I held her hips fast against mine as I took what I needed, violently thrusting as deeply into her wet tightness as possible. Erasa was the only woman I had ever bedded—that fact never bothered me until I had met my nymphet. I'd lost too much time with a lesser female, pursuing a cookie-cutter existence that did not satisfy me. She mewled underneath me and writhed like a cat in heat while I growled impatiently.

It was not meant to be an extended tryst and Erasa had hardly begun to moan when I reached my peak in strangled groans. She rotated her hips against mine but I managed to pull free in time to spill my essence across the smooth contours of her back rather than inside her fertile womb. It wasn't quite the height of my nirvana but enough to keep me satisfied for a while longer.

Hardly winded, I rose from the bed to tuck myself back into my slacks and rebuttoned my shirt. Erasa remained flat on the bed with my cum across her skin with a vacant expression in her eyes. I was beginning to see it in many people recently. Perhaps the stresses of life were becoming unbearable.

I ran a hand through my hair lazily. "It's time."

"Bring it to me."

"As you wish."

The pen glided across the parchment in a delicate motion and Erasa was no longer mine. She didn't bat an eye when I removed my wedding band and set it upon the nightstand. When I left, she was still lying in bed with the opaque white splatters still spotted upon her spine.

It was mid-afternoon when I finally stepped into my own vehicle with the belongings I treasured most in the back seat. My ex-wife hung near the front door with the blankets wrapped around her and watched with hollow eyes as I drove off down the street towards my next destination: 16 Dolores Street. My father had undoubtedly frightened Videl and it was my responsibility to clean up his mess yet again.

The apartment complex was in a rather derelict section of West City where I wasn't wholly comfortable parking my vehicle. I stepped out to peer up at the towering, crumbling complex before me, with missing windows and screaming men and women throwing pottery at one another. A man who seemed to have forgotten his belt waddled down the sidewalk and I nonchalantly locked my car.

Inside the situation had not improved: rather, it worsened tenfold. Several dying plants were scattered around the ground floor in broken vases that spilled dirt upon the stained maroon carpets. I neatly stepped past a man in a trenchcoat slumbering on this cocktail of filth and sauntered to the directory to find apartment number 16. The raucous inhabitants of the building continued their bellowing and shattering and sobbing as my eyes roamed along the list, settling upon the second floor.

A man in a wife-beater and fraying black boxers stared at me while we ascended in the elevator. I idly checked my watch and stepped onto the floor where Videl lived, pushing my glasses up on my nose and standing a bit straighter. Room number 16 was at the end of the hallway beside a broken window that ushered in cold air from the outdoors. I knocked twice on her door.

There was movement inside; a scurrying that sounded like a mouse's paws scurrying across hardwood. Surely I had been wrong about Videl's age—a sixteen year old couldn't be living alone. I stood back politely when the door cracked open to reveal one wide, deeply dark eye. The gold chain held her door closed enough to offer protection and made it impossible for me to see her completely.

"Hello," I said. "My name is Gohan Son, and I wanted to come here to apologize for my father's probable boorish behavior. Did you arrive home in one piece, Videl?"

She stared, unblinking and frozen.

I tilted my head and cocked an eyebrow at her silence. "Do you have the same ghastly hangover as the rest of them? Come now, it's a simple question that only requires a one-word answer."

Videl didn't budge for another few moments before vanishing within her apartment. I scowled and prepared to knock again when I heard a myriad of locks twisting and turning and the door flew open, revealing a small woman who was indeed sixteen years old. Videl's eyes were bagged from exhaustion and she only looked at me once more to welcome me into her shabby apartment.

If it weren't for my Saiyan enhancements I would've certainly tripped to my death over the myriad of objects flung across the floor. I adjusted my glasses, acknowledging that there had been some kind of struggle recently. But amongst the rubbish were exercise tools: dumbbells, a yoga mat, energy drinks that had more than likely expired… I glanced at her as she walked. She didn't look like an athlete.

We sat in her living room on a fraying green couch. Videl twiddled her thumbs. Her hair was tangled in knots but had been tied in tight pigtails anyhow, and her eyes were a bit puffy. Otherwise she was a passable blooming nymphet who would certainly satisfy my needs until I could have Bulla.

"Long night?" I asked.

She looked at me with glassy eyes. "Yeah, sort of."

"Do you live here alone?" I leaned forward, clasping my hands together. "Permitting strange men into your apartment isn't a good idea."

"Valese seemed to trust you so I figured I could. Besides, you don't look like a serial killer."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Tell me about it," she said.

"Are you still in school? You're certainly not old enough to live alone."

"I'm… fine. Look, I need to get ready for work and call Valese." Videl rubbed the back of her neck in a nervous manner. She looked quite ill.

The sure way to a runaway's heart was through her wallet. Videl had no interest in speaking to me outside of polite conversation and it was plain to see her apartment was in disarray from the burdens she carried. The transition from a nymphet was difficult, full of strife that would transform her delicate form into a hideous, high-heeled beast. Money would keep her as a nymphet for a while longer.

Videl watched with furrowed brows as I rose to retrieve my checkbook. She blinked while I scribbled down what I found to be appropriate enough to attract her attention—$5000 was the golden number, an amount I wouldn't have stopped for if I found it lying in the street. I tore the check free and set it on her scratched coffee table, tucking my pen away in my jacket. The girl leaned forward and peered at the check then jolted back like it was charged with electricity.

"I… I can't take this!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a prostitute or something you know!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm aware. Apparently _you_ weren't aware that I am the vice president of Capsule Corporation." I slid the check toward her. "This is an infinitesimal sum to me; less than pennies. Use it how you will and if you'd like to thank me, you can refer to my business card."

"Please, I can't take this from you!"

"If you don't, my ex-wife will. Perhaps you could relocate? Buy some groceries, pay bills. And if you've impressed me enough with your progress, I may be inspired to allocate more to you. Feel free to scribble down your last name but the bank will call me regardless to verify the check."

"What?!" Videl leapt to her feet, suddenly ablaze with emotion. Her brows were drawn together in mixed rage and confusion. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but—"

"Nothing. Enjoy your day, Videl."

The girl collapsed on her couch and left without another word. When I stepped into the hallway, I nearly knocked an object over with my heel. I turned to see a new vase with various flowers resting on the floor. There was a note attached to the stem of a particular large plant.

My creeping demon scowled. Competition was an unwelcome interruption.


	8. Huit

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews, guys. :) Don't worry about ten pages lemons or anything. Admittedly, this story WILL have a lot of sex in it because it's not only about Gohan and Bulla, but I don't go over the top. Usually a few paragraphs to a page, and it depends on who I'm writing about. Videl is 16, by the way, for the person who asked. She was going to be older but I like it better this way. Hehehe... :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Huit ::

The torturous cadence of time wore on.

Each day became a nightmare; a prison for my ailing mind and constant pressure upon my already strained self-control. The rhythms my body had followed since birth lay shriveled at my feet, replaced by rude awakenings from my nymphet's creaking bed or sudden, gruesome urges to return to my wife and end my suffering. There was no torment akin to the six inches of plaster and 36 years of indoctrination preventing me from taking what I believed was rightfully mine.

For several weeks I kept reserved to myself to avoid my impulses. Bulla usually danced her way to school in the mornings with a muffin in her teeth and a bottle of water in her backpack. I would drink my coffee idly, reading the newspaper with false intrigue, while she spun and begged Bulma to give her money for an arcade with her friends. They would leave together and it was then that I hid away in the shadows to pour my darkness into hastily construed journal entries on my precious laptop.

My mother requested I visit at the end of my first month living in Capsule Corp. It was understood between Bulma and I that I could move on—I certainly had the money—but she probably assumed I didn't want to live alone. My reasons were of course far more malevolent than she imagined.

When I arrived home, my mother was outside hanging laundry on the line, greying hair tied in a tight ponytail. She was wearing overalls, which was a strange fashion choice. Normally I only ever saw her in cheongsams no matter the occasion or the time of day. My mother waved excitedly and then she was upon my neck in a tight embrace with promises of dinner and dessert.

"Everything is finalized with Erasa?" my mother asked, standing outside with me for several minutes under the warm afternoon sun. "I'm glad she won't be having my grandchildren. Blonde hair just wouldn't suit a Son, don't you think, Gohan?"

"Yes, but please don't pester me to reproduce. I don't care much for children."

"Oh, don't be like that! You were great with Goten." Mother clapped her hands together, beaming bright enough to blind me. "That's what I called you about! Your brother finally came to his senses and brought a girl home. We don't have much room but I set them up in the basement!"

I blinked. "You're not serious."

We went inside to prove her point.

My brother was sitting at the kitchen table with a conceited smirk on his mouth that made me violently angry: I detested how Goten was always so cocky, like our father with a far more loathsome personality. Beside him sat a familiar face in the form of Valese, though this time she didn't appear to be on the verge of tears. She was smiling at my brother in the manner of a battered woman. My stomach turned.

Valese was wearing a green cheongsam and had her hair pinned up quite like my mother's. She rose from the table quickly to offer me a half-bow and Goten dragged her back down aggressively, making her cheeks flush red. My mother didn't seem to notice. She was utterly euphoric.

"Aren't they so sweet?" my mother asked.

I curled my lip in revulsion. "Sweet enough to incite nausea."

"You don't need to be cranky because your wife dumped you," Goten said. "Valese and I happened to really hit it off and I suggested we skip the theatrics and start living together. Mom and dad didn't even date and look at how happy they are." He leaned back, still smirking. "Money isn't everything, is it?"

"No, but it's kept me from my mother's basement."

"Keep running your mouth and see where it gets you," my brother hissed. "Besides, you're still stuck living at Capsule Corp. with _Bulma. _You have no room to talk."

"Have you ever paid rent?" I pressed, intent on pushing every button I could find. "Hm, pity. It was fun watching you squirm for a few years but this is just getting out of control, little brother."

Goten was out of his seat so quickly that it clattered to the floor. He slammed his hands down on the table so hard that Valese jumped back. "See, mom, this is why Gohan doesn't have any goddamn kids or a goddamn wife! He's such a belligerent asshole that no woman can bear to be around him long enough that he can finish fucking her!"

My mother threw down her towel. "Goten, don't you use—"

"Look at my baby brother throwing around such big words," I said. He had struck a nerve on my end and I couldn't let him get away with it. "At least I don't have to explain to women why I'm bringing them back to my mother's basement for a night of hindered passion courtesy of the thin walls."

Valese stood suddenly with a terrified expression on her face. "Okay, maybe we should all just calm down and stop before—"

All of us were around the table trying to be heard over one another but over the din I could hear the sound of my brother's hips twisting toward Valese. I could not react fast enough to grab his wrist before his palm impacted her cheek so hard that she was thrown to the floor. She slammed into the cabinets with a gasp and the three of us froze, staring in shock at the human woman cradling her head.

The front door creaked open but none of us budged, even when footsteps entered the kitchen. Valese hung her head and began sobbing softly when another pair of hands joined the others on the table.

Goku squinted, confused, and looked around the table at all of us. "What's goin' on? Are you guys playing a game? Valese, you don't have to cry when they beat you."

We were all still quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. Goten finally shifted and walked toward her, bending down to wipe her eyes with his thumbs and murmur that he was sorry. I watched my mother stand straight again and turn her back to them, then beatifically offer to make lunch.

"Are you blind?" I snapped. "Mother, you can't allow this."

Chi-Chi had been my solace in a childhood wrought with battles and severe injuries and an absent father. Piccolo had taught me many things of life but it was always my mother who became my comfort when I cried late at night begging Goku to come home. I had never imagined raising my voice to her, nor did I ever picture the day my perception of her would change irrevocably.

My mother turned to me with a ladle in her hand and a cold glare. My brother was holding his sniffling woman in his arms and my father was staring at cracks in the ceiling. She was the glue pulling all of us together into a chaotic heap of conflicting personalities. My rage peaked.

"It was obviously an accident," Chi-Chi said.

All of my withheld urges erupted. The table shattered under my palms and collapsed to the floor like Valese had, causing her to once again jump in fright. It did nothing to calm me and I left in the next moment, shoving past my father on the way out the door.

"That wasn't very nice, Gohan!" dad called.

The flight back to Capsule Corp. was short, fueled primarily by my anger. My mother was going to turn a blind eye to the blatant abuse in her home because she wanted to believe Goten had become _something _in his pathetic life. Perhaps she had something in common with Valese. Goten and my father were quite a bit alike, but Goku was abusive in a subtler, crueler way. He had abandoned my mother to pursue his own goals and never affirmed her emotions.

I landed outside Capsule Corp., loosening my tie to keep from suffocating. Maybe I had inherited something from Goku, after all. He was too dense to comprehend how he affected my mother but I knew full well that my coldness was a detriment to them. Goku had a sickeningly happy disposition and mine was far more serious, adding to the damage my behavior could cause.

There was only one person I would ever give myself to completely. The rest were disposable. My mother had proven to me that she fell within that category. Nymphets were the sole innocents in a brutal world and I would do what I had to in order to protect them. Bulla could have every piece of me.

Agitated and burning with restrained aggression I nearly missed a note Bulma had stuck to the refrigerator. I tore it down irately: she was _shopping_; what else was new? I crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage on my way to my bedroom, where I would be forced to relieve my tension again. Videl had not yet contacted me and I doubted she ever would. Frustrating.

It was only noon so I assumed I would be alone for at least a few more hours. My laptop was waiting on my computer desk—I carried it to the bed to be in better comfort and navigated to a familiar website. Capsule Corp. was entirely silent; soon the only sounds were the nearly muted moans of women filtering through my speakers. It made me grimace but it was my only option at the present.

Then, my bedroom door flew open. "What's up, Gohan?!"

In an instant I slammed my laptop shut and slid it behind my pillow, barely managing a smile in my nymphet's direction. She was in another dress: pink and white stripes with a bow above her stomach. Bulla twirled in white slippers with drooping socks and beamed at me.

And I had reached a new plateau of terror. I was breathing heavily and covered my lap with a pillow when Bulla skipped toward me, leaping on to my bed without a second's hesitation. She crept toward me on her hands and knees with a wide grin and her eyes flickered to my laptop behind my pillow. Small fingers crawled toward my trove of evil and I leaned back farther to prevent her from taking it.

Bulla pouted and turned on her back, lying beside me. Could she read the intent in my eyes? Hell, it had to be written across my face. I blinked back at her stupidly, aware of my hands trembling in my lap. They wanted to move. They wanted to feel her in some capacity.

"You don't talk to me very much," she said. "Don't you like me?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't sound like it. If you like me you'll let me see your computer. Mom put a password on mine so I haven't been able to use it in a whole week."

"It's private," I said. "I have a lot of important work on it."

Her nose crinkled. "Huh? All I want to do is go on Facebook. I don't care about boring Capsule Corp. stuff." Then she slid her arm under the pillow and tried to take the laptop again.

"Bulla, _no_, you mustn't—"

Unfortunately, my hands were otherwise occupied hiding my arousal from her piercing blue eyes. Bulla successfully seized my laptop and moments later she was clawing at my pants in the way I had imagined, pulling herself into my lap and rotating her hips until she was comfortable. Panicked, I could only grasp the sheets and tug in a desperate attempt to control myself. Bulla opened the laptop.

It was mercifully black. The power had died.

My nymphet whined and pressed the power button helplessly. "Seriously?"

The pressure was immense. I tilted my head back, screwing my eyes shut to maintain some semblance of sanity. "Like I said, it's private."

"That's dumb." She cast the laptop to the end of the bed and then she was off of my lap, skipping across the room to the door. With a twirl of blue she turned one last time to smile at me. "I'll come back later, then. Promise you won't tell mom?"

Friendship had been offered to me. I nodded quickly, "yes, of course," and she was gone.

The television turned on downstairs while I, a grown man, sat shivering in bed. Nothing could satisfy me. The only way to subdue my creeping demon was with a nymphet of flesh and blood.


	9. Neuf

**A/N:** Oh, come on, I know this is pretty far from DBZ but most fanfics are. You don't need to address me on that fact; I'm very well aware. This kind of thing is about as likely as Goku and Vegeta shacking up and either one of them getting pregnant. Can't we just accept this as a demented darkfic and leave it at that, or do I have to listen to people nagging me incessantly?

**Warnings:** Mild sensuality.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Neuf ::

Driving to my intended location was far too risky, forcing me to walk through the dark streets of West City with my wallet full of money. I had nothing to fear from any human on Earth; I was far more concerned with being identified than mugged. My heart pounded in my ears but it wasn't enough to drown out my shrieking desperation that was leaving me teetering on the brink of madness. I tipped my hat lower, trying to obscure my face while I gnashed my teeth together.

There was only one place I could go. I loathed paying women to sleep with me but it had been so long since I last felt the stirrings of desire that I forgot how overwhelming it became. My long black coat kept prying eyes away as I made my way downtown to a vaguely familiar red sign where Vegeta and my father had brought me just before my wedding. Trunks and Goten were far too young, of course, but they still pled to be taken with us.

I paused outside, tilting on my heels to gaze at the flickering neon sign that read "Passion," with the "i" stylized as a heart. It was a poor attempt to disguise the establishment as a strip club, perhaps the most innocent variation of seedy city joints. The sounds of giggling women drifted through the door and I flexed my hands several times, preparing myself to go inside.

Feet shuffled on the sidewalk. "Um… you wouldn't happen to be Gohan Son, would you?"

The voice prevented me from vanishing in that instant. I looked down in disbelief to see Videl standing before me, illuminated by the glow of the neon sign overhead. She looked healthier than before but the light still didn't touch her dark eyes—however, she was wearing newer clothing and protecting a large purse with one arm. Her black hair was pulled into neat pigtails.

Her appearance threw me entirely off balance. It was not a good place to be caught sneaking around late at night. Regardless, I kept my composure and turned my attention to her in an idle manner to seem as if I were touring the sights instead of intending to go inside the hubbub of debauchery.

"What brings you to this part of the city?" I asked. "It isn't a good place for a teenage girl."

"I've been trying to find you for weeks. I lost the business card you left and couldn't get a hold of you." Videl crinkled her nose, glancing about in distaste. "Uh, can we go back to my apartment and talk? I don't like it here very much."

My mouth felt dry. For all the years I had harbored my dark desires I never imagined they would come to fruition, even if my intended target was a blooming nymphet. I nodded stiffly, hardly able to appreciate my good luck, and Videl turned several times trying to decide where to go.

"We'd be better off taking a taxi," I said.

The ride back to her apartment was quiet. What we needed to say could not be spoken in front of a stranger and I assumed Videl wanted to show me how she had improved. I glanced at her several times and her dark eyes never left the window, gazing out at the city as it rapidly passed by. She still appeared to be disconnected from the world. I couldn't discern why with a simple look.

Our cab driver watched suspiciously as I followed Videl to her new apartment complex, this time in a much cleaner part of the city. It was modest—I expected she would be frugal—but there were lively plants in the lobby and clean, quiet elevators for the use of the inhabitants. She clutched her purse tightly while I kept my hands in my jacket's pockets, watching the floors change.

Videl's apartment was on the top floor. I followed behind her, pleased that the building was indeed in much better condition than the last. If I were to invest in her I expected she would return that by keeping our rendezvous in a clean, safe location. Her keys jangled lightly during our walk until she stopped outside the door at the end of the hallway. She swore under her breath.

There was a box of chocolates lying on the floor with a poorly tied bow on top. Videl picked them up, shaking her head furiously back and forth, and unlocked the door to allow me inside. I waited politely for her to kick off her shoes and followed her to the large living room, decorated with all sorts of strange knickknacks. She tossed the chocolates on the ornate coffee table and collapsed in a frilly green chair that looked like it belonged in a dorm. I cringed at her sense of style as I sat on a vintage floral couch.

She folded her arms angrily. "Someone keeps leaving stuff outside my door! I set traps to catch them but I never do and it's starting to freak me out. They followed me from my last apartment!"

"I can assure you it isn't me," I said, leaning back. "When I want a woman, I take her instead of skittering around like a frightened insect."

Videl's aggression faded and she became a meek nymphet again, shying away from the implication of sex. Her fingers twisted along the length of her coat. "Oh… yeah. It's just annoying, that's all."

"Mhm. So, I see you've put the money to good use. I'm glad you didn't invest in heroin or some other illicit drug and behaved like an adult. Well done, Videl. Excluding your strange sense of style you've done quite well in exhibiting self-control. I expected someone with so little would become too excited and go on a spending spree, compounded by your age."

"I didn't exactly come from nothing," she muttered. "My dad is a really famous fighter in another country and I couldn't deal with it anymore. I'm not really the kind of girl who likes the spotlight and I definitely don't go spree shopping. So I ran away and wound up here… somehow." She paused, clenching her hands into fists. "I wasn't doing well at all until you came along."

She was alone. Perfect.

"Ah, that explains why your apartment doesn't have many feminine touches," I said with a teasing smile. "I'm glad I could get you out of a bad situation. Does your landlord know your age?"

The girl shifted in her chair, growing more uncomfortable. "Yeah but he said he wouldn't let me live here because I'm not eighteen. I'm going to school now at Orange Star High, which is okay, but in order to convince him I had to give him a lot of money. I can stay here for another week or so before he throws me out and then I don't know what I'll do."

I cocked an eyebrow. "That _does _seem to be an issue. I don't think a minimum wage job will help you pay for this kind of apartment, will it?"

"…No."

"That's unfortunate. Were you hoping to elicit my help in moving your belongings?"

"Well… well, you see…" Videl returned to twisting her fingers, unable to meet my eyes. She was becoming a blabbering mess before me, desperate and pleading. "You work for Capsule Corp., right? I thought maybe I could do something for you and—"

"I own Capsule Corp., Videl. Besides, what can a 16 year old with hardly any work experience offer a multinational, billion dollar corporation? I have women twice your age begging to work in our filing office performing menial tasks. I highly doubt I have any space available."

The blooming nymphet swallowed hard. She was beginning to tremble. I idly stroked my chin, awaiting her response, but inside I was roiling with excitement. Of course she had nothing to offer me professionally. There was only one other way into a wealthy man's wallet and I could have ended the charade but I wanted to hear her say it. I loved the pleading.

"Maybe we can… work out something different," she said.

It was the closest I would get to a blatant request. I puckered my lips and rose from the couch to take off my coat, then pushed up my sleeves and returned to my spot. Videl kept her head bowed and removed her coat as well, revealing a long, white tunic draped over black leggings. She stood stone still.

I could hardly breathe. My palms slid across my thighs and I patted them gently. "Why don't you come sit on my lap?"

There was no need to take her yet. I certainly could—I was her only option to continue the opulent lifestyle she was becoming addicted to. But Videl knew my identity and she wouldn't hesitate to call the police if I was too aggressive and impatient. I had to settle for a while. Every inch of me screamed for her, clawing madly as the girl approached me with slow, calculated steps.

Videl stood before me with her long arms draped at her sides, shivering. I leaned forward and, for the first time, set my fingers upon the hips of a nymphet. She twitched at the contact and I could feel her bones shifting beneath my fingers, young and supple and untainted by another man.

"Shhh," I whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The tunic was in my way but it offered a means to control myself. My fingers held her firmly as I rested my forehead on her stomach, inhaling her scent of mango that drove more than one hunger. I clenched my jaw and pressed my lips to her shirt to feel her stomach flinch beneath the thin fabric, shying away from my caress. It would've been easy to shatter her entire pelvis.

With a slight tug she was sitting upon me, hands awkwardly gripping her thighs. I held the tops of her palms with my own, pinning them to keep her from wandering too much and rested my chin on her shoulder to press my lips to her neck. In slow, gradual motions I began to rotate my hips against Videl, pushing down hard on her palms as I ran them along her thighs and inward toward her warmth.

It was nirvana. For the first time I could freely feed my dark desire with a victim who was entirely willing and had no chance of escape. I groaned like I had longed to do dreaming of Bulla and held Videl tight to my arousal, able to feel nearly everything through her thin leggings. My frustration distended, and the blooming nymphet moved uncomfortably. It was all leaving me; I was certain of it. I gripped her firmly and fought the tempting urge to take her then and there.

Nymphets were delicate as glass. It took an artist to appreciate them.

The ultimate satisfaction came in violent, rippling waves. My hands clenched upon Videl's and she squealed in pain, pushing harder while my agony pulsated in throes of pleasure. For the first time, I was panting after reaching my peak, and my hands slid away from the nymphet's delicate fingers.

My gruesome thoughts abated in the afterglow. I became quite uncomfortable in my pants and delicately lifted Videl from my lap to set her on the couch. I'd assumed I would need clean clothes and had thankfully brought a capsule along with me. The nymphet was gazing into space.

When I was changed I stood beside the couch. "Would you like me to leave?"

No response. I watched her blank eyes for a few moments before I turned, prepared to walk out.

"How many times do I have to do that?"

I shrugged, though she couldn't see me. "We'll see. Have a nice night, Videl."

The sound of sobs saw me out of the apartment. Women's tears did not stir me. Videl was on the cusp of becoming a grown woman—the only female I would comfort was a true nymphet. I would never abandon Bulla if I suspected she was distressed. Videl was far more disposable.

My creeping demon reflected on my mouth in a ghastly smile.


	10. Dix

**A/N:** I need to stop staying up so late, ugh. But my dorm is so quiet when everyone goes to sleep and it makes for easy writing. I finished my paper so I'll have more time to update and I've finally pulled myself away from Pokemon X. Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like this so much. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Dix ::

The eggshell white ceiling of my bedroom appeared in hazy lines when I woke at nine o'clock in the morning. I remained still for several minutes while my exhaustion ebbed away and slowly sat up to rub my face, briefly and painfully unaware of the taboo I had committed the previous night with a willing victim. All my years of torture weighed heavily upon my shoulders until the memories trickled back in hazy memories accompanied by the sweet smell of mango.

Slowly, my hands dropped from my face as my eyes widened in time with my pounding heartbeat. The only sound was the clock ticking above my bed. I began to tremble.

Then I threw off the sheets and collapsed in my chair, fingers flying across the keyboard to record the magnificent night I had finally felt a nymphet. Videl was tapering toward the end of her most desirable stage but she was still viable to me; the sensation of her gyrating on my lap lingered like a sweet piece of chocolate. I smiled to myself while I typed each gory detail and was forced to pause several times to collect my thoughts that were spilling forth in a violent torrent.

I'd never felt so _alive_. When the words were written and my laptop was protected by its password once again I stood swiftly, knocking my chair over on the carpet. I ran my hands through my hair with restrained excitement, invigorated by my memories and desperate to create more. I'd had her to myself. After so many agonizing years I had finally felt a sweet nymphet.

There was no foreseeable end to my trysts with Videl. She was my puppet, bound to me with a convenient monetary arrangement and unable to refuse my demands. I paced as I imagined the things I could do to her in the privacy of her apartment, where neither parents nor the law would dare interfere. I'd begun a list in my head quite a while ago but it was purely hypothetical and constructed to distract my nefarious machinations. I'd never dreamed they would come to fruition.

Nonetheless, she was not my ultimate prize. My desire had taken the form of a blue-haired nymphet in her prime with full, pink lips and lean legs that were even smaller than Videl's. In that moment, I realized I could have her. I was invincible. In due time, Bulla Briefs would be in my arms.

My joy was difficult to contain as I walked down the stairs for breakfast in my robe. There were several bodies around the kitchen table, most notably Trunks with his now steady girlfriend, Paris. Bulma was sitting across from them smiling and sipping her coffee but she rose suddenly when she noticed me approaching them and prepared me a plate of food. I sat beside her and murmured a thank you.

"Look at this!" Bulma crowed, nudging me with her elbow as I ate my bacon. "Trunks has had a girlfriend for an entire month! Can you believe it, Gohan? My little boy is growing up. Paris is even going to college to become a lawyer."

Words concerning her friend Valese touched my tongue but I swallowed them back like bile. "Ah, so Trunks intends on adding you to his repertoire of legal aides?"

Paris beamed, giggling. "We'll see. I'd like to open my own practice in a rural area and do advocacy work for domestic abuse. A lot of women don't get the help they need."

"No, they don't," I said.

"Actually, your father should be here soon to have breakfast with us." Bulma touched my arm again, balancing on me to glance at the clock on the stove. I thought nothing of it. "Of course he's late. I'll have to call Chi-Chi and tattle on him again if he can't bother coming to breakfast on time. I really wanted to go for a hike with him before I met the girls for our outing."

"You should always plan on Goku being late," Trunks said. He turned to Paris, gesturing at me. "Goku is Gohan's father and he's been friends with my mother for ages. He's… kind of young-looking, like Gohan, but it's a family trait. And he's sort of… uh…"

"An imbecile," I said.

Bulma laughed at my offered adjective and I realized her hand was still on my bicep. "You definitely got your personality from Chi-Chi's side of the family."

The doorbell rang a few moments later and Bulma popped up like a kernel under heat, dashing to the door in an uncharacteristic way that no one else seemed to notice. I chewed thoughtfully on my pancakes and wondered what had her so excitable. Bulla had already left for school. Perhaps she liked the time away from her daughter more than I realized.

"Goku, why the hell are you always covered in _something_? Honest to god, I can't believe Chi-Chi hasn't thrown you to the curb yet!"

My humiliation entered the kitchen with twigs in his black hair and dirt stained across his clothes, which were a shocking pair of jeans and a tshirt. I paused in sipping my coffee, cocking an eyebrow at my father's appearance, but quickly rescinded behind my newspaper to protect myself from Paris's ridicule. Goku was my shame. I could hear his laughter and could practically feel Trunks shaking his head, wondering how on Earth such a fool had raised a competent son.

It was all due to my mother's passionate intervention. I had abandoned her, however. She was enabling my brother's gruesome violence towards women, keeping Valese trapped in our basement like some kind of animal that only existed to breed grandchildren. My demons were far less monstrous. I would never force a nymphet against her will or lay a violent hand on her.

Goku sat at the head of the table and leaned across without hesitation to shake Paris's hand. She blinked in surprise and awkwardly accepted the gesture while I shrank further behind the newspaper. If he vanished from the galaxy I wouldn't have minded. I was beyond my childhood of sobbing to Piccolo.

Bulma set down a plate of food before my father and he began eating like a Saiyan, inhaling his food like it was the last batch left on the planet. I could see the two of them around the corner of my paper and I noticed Bulma smiling in a soft, sad way, rubbing Goku's back while he thanked her between gulps. My eyes flickered to Trunks but he was too busy with his eyes on Paris. I could've sworn I saw the same tender expression in both of their irises…

"Whatcha readin', Gohan?" Goku asked with a mouthful of bacon.

"Nothing you'd understand. Swallow before you speak." I fanned out my paper and composed myself. I was beginning to imagine things. Perhaps another visit to Videl was in order.

"Oh… okay!" my father replied brightly. "We can talk later, then! Do you want to go hiking with me and Bulma up the mountain this afternoon? It's the last time we can go before winter comes and your mother thinks you're stressed out because of the whole divorce thing."

"No," I said.

Goku's chewing slowed. "Uh… okay. Maybe we can go watch the dinosaurs hibernating for the winter? There're a lot of big ones this year so—"

"I'm a grown man. No, thank you."

"Oh… sorry for um…" His chair creaked as he leaned back to rub his head. I hated that habit. "…Inconveniencing you. Guess it'll just be Bulma and me."

"Trunks and I would be happy to come along, Goku," Paris offered. "We don't have anything planned for today and I'd like to see Mt. Paozu. Dad always thought it was too dangerous for us to go to so we could only hang around in the meadows near the base of the mountain. Is that okay with you?"

This began a long conversation in which Goku detailed exactly how their day would go. I studied my article about corruption in the Senate while they gabbed and risked peeking at Bulma again to see her smile had tightened considerably. Her hand was still on my father's back but he didn't seem to notice. Was I missing something? Maybe he was ill and she was comforting him.

Trunks and Paris left to prepare for the hike and Goku wandered to the living room to collapse on the couch, lolling around watching cartoons. While I glared silently at him over the top of my paper I felt a hand alight upon my shoulder blade, sending shivers down my spine. It was a foreign sensation.

Bulma's lips were beside my ear. "Why are you being so rude to your father?"

"He's an embarrassment."

"Saiyans are different than us, Gohan. Vegeta never even held a job when we were married. He was an unrepentant murderer and I don't like to think of the things he did before we met." She sighed quietly and her breath tingled along my earlobe. "You should be happy your father is a bumbling idiot. Make amends and enjoy the time you have left with him."

"I will never forgive him for needlessly abandoning me. Goku can reap what he's sown."

"Just think about it. You intimidate him. I think you hurt his feelings more than he lets on."

"Good," I said coldly.

She patted my back and left to sit beside my father, smiling and nodding while he continued raving about their afternoon on the mountain. He still trained like normal with Goten so it wasn't strange to see him covered in filth on a day-to-day basis. What struck me as odd were his clothes—my father preferred wearing the ghastly training uniform bestowed upon him by Master Roshi.

I set down my paper to enjoy my coffee and my father turned to smile at me over the back of the couch. It didn't matter how many times he tried to fix what he had done. I knew a selfish man existed beneath the layers of grins and laughter and hair-touching. Goku was far from innocent.

"What?" I snapped.

He blinked. "Oh, I wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a present for Chi-Chi. Goten is making me look bad with all the neat stuff he brings home for Valese." He furrowed his brow, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "She's a weepy girl, always crying over weird things. Your mother never cries."

"I'll help you pick something out," Bulma said quickly when she noticed my expression darken. "Gohan has a lot of business to do for Capsule Corp. so we don't want to interrupt the genius. Why don't you tell me about the lake we're going to one more time. It sounds so interesting."

Their voices faded into the background. It was true that my mother never cried. I assumed her tears had dried up at some point during the seven years Goku was dead, trouncing around in the immoral world while Chi-Chi sat at the kitchen table with a dead bleakness in her eyes. Normally she would pretend to be happy for Goten and I's benefit but there were days when her façade failed and she would sob endlessly. In turn, Goten would cry to me. And in turn, I would cry to Piccolo.

Thoroughly agitated, I poured the remainder of my beverage down the sink and went back upstairs to shut myself in my bedroom. It had been quite a while since I read a good book and Voltaire in particular was calling to me. _Candide _was my favorite novel of all time and I still had my frayed copy from childhood. I sat at my desk with the book unfolded before me and traced the familiar lines with my eyes.

It was a miracle I hadn't become an alcoholic after suffering so many years of neglect at Goku's hands. The only time he displayed affection was when it involved fighting, hopelessly tangling the two in my prepubescent mind. I strived for his approval in everything that did; saving the world was only a secondary effect. Thus, when he performed his final act of abandonment I devoted myself entirely to becoming a scholar rather than a muscle-bound brute.

The house was blissfully silent. I became absorbed in my book and was nearly halfway through when there was a gentle knock on my door. After a muttered, "come in" I saw familiar black hair poke inside, followed by the rest of my father. He was wringing his hands nervously.

"What?" I asked.

He tried to lean casually on the doorframe but stumbled instead. "Nothing, just wanted to see what you were up to. We're leaving in a few minutes. Sure you don't want to come along?"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life, even divorcing my harpy of a wife."

"…Alright. So have you heard from that nice girl I brought home? The one that Bulma said wasn't supposed to be at that bar?"

My eyes flickered from my book to Goku's black irises. I remained nonchalant. "Videl? No, I haven't. She's a bit too young to be mingling with a man my age. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, she just seemed really sick. I hope she's okay."

"So do I."

"Yeah…" My father lowered his eyes to the floor and suddenly brightened. "Anyway, we're gonna get going now! Have fun reading your weird book, Gohan!"

They were gone a short while later. A wisp of a suspicion crossed my mind but I shook it away quickly, returning to reading _Candide_. It was temporary insanity brought on by my father's appearance and nothing more. Perhaps I needed a nap to clear my muddled thoughts.

My creeping demon was far more interested in a nymphet.


	11. Onze

**A/N**: After alllll those chapters of buildup, STUFF IS HAPPENING.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Onze ::

The months free of work would be the final stressful surge that pushed me into a free fall of insanity. I'd grown conditioned to my routine and detested leaving it behind, even if it offered more time to devote to my other interests. Capsule Corp. was essential to my being and I longed to rest in my reclining chair, checking reports and financial summaries that others found monotonous. Predictability was my greatest asset. I was a man who adhered to a steady, plodding pace in life.

Between my broken circadian rhythms and forced vacation I wasn't sure how I would cope. Voltaire held my interest for quite a while but my thoughts and desires bled together, leading me to bitterly ruminating about what fool was performing my duties. My underlings would find me weak for leaving work after a divorce. I had never experienced more distinct clarity than I had for my first month of freedom from my wife.

Dangerously teetering on the brink of boredom, I relaxed in my chair to begin reading _Inferno_ by Dante Alighieri for what I assumed to be the fifteenth time. It was far too dangerous to use my laptop openly after my potentially fatal encounter with Bulla. Books were equally amusing. I idly scanned the paragraphs, collecting concepts from each rather than wasting time on each word, a talent that had made me especially adept at crunching numbers.

The distinct sound of bubble gum popping drew my attention to my bedroom door.

Bulla was leaning on the frame, grinding her gum between her teeth in the likeness of a cow. I glanced at the clock and joyfully realized it was 2:30 PM, which meant the others wouldn't be back to Capsule Corp. for some time. She tilted her head and soft blue hair spilled across her shoulder. Blue jeans obscured her lean, pale legs from sight and her upper body was clad in a thick sweatshirt.

"What're you reading?" she asked.

"_Inferno_. I'm not sure if you would like it."

Her nose crinkled in distaste. "Probably not. I like _Twilight_. Did you ever read it?"

"Uh… no, I haven't."

"Awww, why not?"

"It doesn't interest me," I said.

"Didn't you even see the movies? They were so great!" Bulla suddenly became animated, twirling into my room with a radiant smile and sighing softly. She vaguely reminded me of an actress playing the role of Juliet. "Edward is so cute and _mature_. Guys only pull my hair and throw things at me."

I tried to maintain my composure. The flirtation methods of young boys were repulsive. "That's very rude of them. Perhaps you have unrealistic expectations from your protagonist's love interest."

Bulla paused, blinking her bright blue eyes. "Well you can't talk about it if you haven't read it or seen it." Then she leaned on her tiptoes to peer at my book and the moment I had been starving for finally came into focus. She rocked back on her heels, smiling. "Do you want to watch it with me, or are you gonna read your boring book all afternoon?"

Warmth tingled along my limbs as I began to come to life. I swallowed hard and could only nod, resulting in the nymphet jumping with glee and vanishing from my bedroom. Damn, I had only one brief encounter with Videl to prepare me for close to two hours alone with Bulla, who was undoubtedly far more tempting. I clenched my jaw, setting my book down and rising to my feet.

The television was on a black screen and Bulla knelt before it, tossing DVD cases across the floor in her search for _Twilight_. She bowed her spine and crept toward the inside of the television stand and I sat on the couch behind her, eyes trained on her twisting body. She suddenly recoiled with the movie in hand and beamed at me; I hardly averted my eyes in time to smile back. While she finished setting up the movie I glanced down at my clothes. Jeans and a dress shirt felt too casual.

Bulla leapt upon the couch to draw the curtains behind us and promptly collapsed beside me. We were inches apart, reminding me of her small form crawling into my lap only a day before. My patience seemed to be paying off better than I had hoped—Bulla did not fear me.

Blood pulsed in my ears, drowning out the awkward acting of the characters that had bewitched Bulla. Her blue eyes were bright in the dreary afternoon as she gazed at the male vampire with her lips partially opened, occasionally turning upwards in a smile or giggle. I stretched my arm over the back of the couch and twisted my neck several times with closed eyes to keep myself steady.

"Isn't Edward great?" Bulla whispered.

I nodded stiffly, miserably. "Yes. I'm particularly fond of the facial expressions he makes."

The nymphet looked up at me irately and I realized I had overstepped my boundary. "That's because he's trying not to bite her. If he does, he could kill her."

"He can't have one small taste? Surely he has enough self-control."

"Nope, vampires can only go all the way. They drink the entire human."

"How frustrating that must be for Edward," I said.

Bulla puckered her lips. I desperately wanted to kiss them. One feathery brush on flesh would be enough to feed my hunger. "Yeah, but he loves Bella so he doesn't care too much. If he does what he wants, she could end up getting really hurt in the end."

"I see," I said.

"Y'know, you make faces like him sometimes."

My heart was thundering in my ears; I could have sworn it was audible. If her legs were bare I would've certainly lost my self-control. Weakened by her presence, I could only manage a small smile instead of a verbal reply. It wasn't in my nature to meekly bow before a female. My ability to banter endlessly was an asset I treasured and it helped keep me sane during my decade and a half with Erasa.

Then Bulla leaned back, pressing her head against my wrist and scrutinizing me. Her legs were curled up beneath her on the couch, nearly touching mine. "Are you upset because your wife ditched you?"

It was a blunt question typical of a nymphet. I raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Huh. I wish I could've met her. Trunks said she was really pretty."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"…Well, if she was so pretty, why didn't you have any kids?" Bulla asked. She was looking at me in a stern manner like I was being reprimanded for not reproducing. The television flickered in the background, illuminating the contours of her face.

My tongue knotted itself into intricate contortions and I rubbed the back of my head with my free arm, reminiscent of my father. "That's a little complicated."

"I'm bored," Bulla said, sighing dramatically. "Let's go read your book now."

"Your movie isn't over. Plus, my book isn't good to read out loud."

This didn't sit well with my nymphet. She chewed her bottom lip in an enticing manner that I was sure she directed towards me and suddenly leapt off the couch to dart upstairs. I blinked in surprise, watching the actors wandering on screen, and wondered if she meant for me to follow. But Bulla returned a minute later with _Inferno_ clutched in her hands.

It felt like a dream. I wished I was in an irreversible coma so I never had to wake to brutal reality in which Bulla Briefs would certainly not crawl into my lap. She would be shopping with her gaggle of friends, drinking soda at the mall and ogling clothing and young men. I would become an elegy in my dark bedroom, cloaked in shadow and self-loathing.

The afternoon sun lanced through a partition in the curtains to bathe my kneecaps in orange light as Bulla crept onto the cushion beside me, nestling close to my body. Slowly, I lowered my arm from the back of the couch to hold her around the waist with gentle pressure. She leaned toward me. Her thigh pressed firmly to mine. I cleared my throat uncomfortably as she opened the book to the first chapter.

"Why are the paragraphs so big?" she asked after a few minutes.

I was struggling to keep my eyes trained on the book. "I told you it was boring."

"Does it get any better? _Twilight _was really boring for a while, too." Then she sat forward, planting her hands upon my bicep. "I have an idea! Why don't you read my book and I'll read yours?"

"Ah, I suppose, even though vampires don't appeal to me."

"They will after you're done. There're four books to read so if you like it you can read them after. Come on, we can go get _Twilight _and read in my room. I'm sick of running up and down the stairs."

Small, soft fingers slipped through mine and I squeezed tightly, lavishing in the sensation of her flesh. "Your mother won't be very happy if she sees me in your bedroom. Why don't we sit here for a while longer? You can read my book, since I'm sure you'll have questions." I attempted a disarming smile and tugged on her hand. "Do you want to sit on my lap?"

Bulla cocked her head. "Yeah, you're right. She gets bent out of shape over nothing. You can braid my hair while I read!"

To her, I was sexless. It wasn't a terrible position to be in—if she was intensely attracted to me, luring her would be far more difficult. I began to tremble at the notion of touching her silky hair like I had dreamed for so many weeks. Bulla impatiently told me to turn and lean against the arm of the couch, and then the nymphet sat between my legs that curved around her, stretching much farther along the length of the furniture. I swallowed as she leaned against me and opened the book once more.

Bulla tilted her head back to look up at me. I stared.

"Are you gonna braid my hair or what?" she demanded.

The movie had ended and the only sounds were the clock ticking along with my pulse. Trembling, I ran Bulla's soft blue hair through my fingertips and began to experiment with it, twisting the locks over one another in awkward, lopsided braids. She closed her eyes and smiled then returned to reading.

Fifteen minutes passed. She shifted, pressing her tailbone against me, and I gritted my teeth. "This is a weird language. "

"It's Latin, the progenitor of many modern languages. I had to learn it during college."

"Ooh, that sounds really cool! I'm learning Spanish but I don't like it very much. Can you teach me some Latin sometime so I can show my friends?"

"Of course," I said.

Silence ensued and I resumed touching her hair, marveling at its texture. It had the consistency of a liquid in the way it draped across my fingers. I considered touching her narrow shoulders. Surely she wouldn't complain about an innocent massage.

"What's 'lust'?"

My hands froze with her hair gently held within them. It felt as if I had been found out.

Bulla looked up at me again and blinked her blue eyes, full of curiosity. "Is it that bad? You shouldn't be letting me read bad books, Gohan."

"I'm… surprised, that's all. You've never heard that word?"

"Nope!" she said brightly.

"It must be considered foul language," I muttered. "Lust is considered to be a sin. It's normally used to refer to letting your desire for something control your reasoning. Dante is referring to, ah… carnal lust rather than materialistic lust."

"What's a carnal?"

I grimaced. "Nothing, just keep reading."

"Tell me! I can't understand if I don't know. He's said it like a hundred times."

"It's… it's about a person's sexual appetite."

She rolled her eyes. "Lame. That's all you had to tell me." Then she looked back down at _Inferno_, leaving me bemused.

The pages of the book turned slowly and after a while her head was dipping forward away from my chest. The sunlight had faded, leaving chirping crickets and moonlight behind. Yawns filled the room before she finally succumbed to her exhaustion and dozed off between my legs.

Hardly breathing out of fear that the rise and fall of my chest would rouse her, I remained utterly still, one arm resting delicately upon my thigh and the other hanging limply from the side of the sofa. The scent of her hair lingered on my fingertips. Bulma would be returning soon enough and I was in a compromising position. Unfortunately, my nymphet needed to be in her own bed.

But moving felt wrong. I tried to gently take her into my arms only to result in her turning over, both small hands resting on my stomach. She breathed quietly against my chest. My hands trembled on my knees—I looked like a goddamn lunatic with a caffeine problem.

I'd forgotten how to sense energy. The front door suddenly opened.

Bulma entered carrying several shopping bags and kicked the door shut behind her. She dropped them in the kitchen before turning and noticing me, pressing a palm to her mouth. My chest tightened.

"That's so cute!" she whispered, tiptoeing over to put a hand on my shoulder. "She used to sleep like this with Vegeta all the time." Her eyes roamed to the television and she scowled. "She leaves a mess like her father, too. Was she bothering you very much?"

"Oh, not at all. I hoped she would read _Inferno_ but she dozed off after a few chapters."

"Mhm. Bulla's more of an arm piece than a brainiac." Bulma looked at her daughter disdainfully and squeezed my shoulder. "Could you bring her to bed for me? Your father gave me a pretty rock I'm going to rinse and set on the windowsill in the kitchen. I'm sorry to impose."

Relieved, I quickly agreed and tenderly took Bulla into my arms, supporting her bridal style on the way up the stairs. Bulma began humming to herself and removed an ugly black stone from a grocery bag that she set in her pristine stainless steel sink and began to wash. I frowned before proceeding down the hall to Bulla's bedroom, wondering what the hell had gotten into her mother.

It was my first time in the nymphet's room. The walls were pink with posters of various boybands along the walls, and for some reason she had taped a blue piece of cloth above her bed. The sheets were electric yellow with circles but it was unmade and messy; typical antics of nymphets. Underneath my feet was a plush tan carpet that was much thicker than the one in my bedroom. There were nail polish stains dotting along it, leading to a vanity with incalculable amounts of makeup.

Carefully, I laid Bulla upon her sheets and tried as best as I could to arrange them around her slumbering form. She nuzzled into her pillows. One of my hands remained on her shoulder, thinking.

Her blue eyes blinked open and she smiled in a delirious manner. She pushed her hair back from her forehead and yawned. "You can't leave without kissing me goodnight."

"You're right, I can't."

I leaned forward to press my lips to her skin, closing my eyes and relishing in her warmth. She giggled and pushed me back a few moments after before turning over on her side and curling into the fetal position. Breathless, I stood straight again and gazed down at her, still somewhat tempted.

However, my ever-present fear of discovery tugged me from the room and I shut the door quietly. I took a steadying breath and turned to return to my own bedroom when I felt fingers on my bicep again, pulling me in the opposite direction. I turned to be met with another pair of blue eyes that were far hazier than Bulla's.

Bulma was holding a glass of white wine in one hand and holding my arm captive with the other. Her gaze was focused intently on me in a way I had seen from many women. But Bulma certainly wasn't looking for money. She had that in spades. Nausea bubbled in my stomach.

"You're so patient with her," Bulma crooned.

I shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm a bit worn out so I'm going to sleep."

"Already? Don't you want some adult time after amusing my daughter all day?"

"That's precisely why I'd like to go to sleep—"

"I'm only asking you to have a few drinks." Bulma took a feminine sip of her wine and her nails nicked my skin. "Can't you spare a few minutes?"

Displeasing her could result in me being discharged from Capsule Corp. Not only was my career on the line but my access to Bulla would be utterly destroyed. I smiled pleasantly at Bulma, struggling to find the strength within myself to do what I knew she was requesting. It had been a long while since I was last drunk. Enough alcohol would certainly sway my revulsion to desire.

"Sure," I said. "I can spare a few minutes."

For the first time, my creeping demon was screaming.


	12. Douze

**A/N:** Holy crap, so many reviews! :o Thank you, guys! Sorry this took almost a week; I've had a lot of homework to do recently for midterms. I'm also almost done with an update for _Half Agony_ but kind of failed at the end so it's faded back into nothing again. Blegh. I hate leaving things unfinished.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Douze ::

_We were all hurtling through space on the ship to Namek, intent on retrieving the Dragon Balls to save our friends. Of course, none of us knew what we were flying into but our minds were strictly set on our objective and nothing else mattered. We lounged around together, playing games and discussing what we could expect from the natives on the foreign plant. I was still a boy who had yet to see the true extent of battle and what had to be sacrificed for victory._

_Bulma was always there; a constant throughout those troubling months. She was even older than my father but I could hardly tell. I could remember watching her stroll through the ship in her underwear, pretending not to notice Krillin staring and throwing cans at him when she decided to acknowledge his eyes. I had inherited my father's obliviousness. Nothing seemed suspicious._

_One night we were sitting together in the helm of the ship while Krillin slept on the floor, exhausted from chasing me around all day. My eyes drooped to a close and I began to drift off to sleep with dreams of being reunited with my father as soon as he was healed. Goku would save the day. And he did, as always. There was never a doubt in my mind that he wouldn't._

_Fingers stroked my hair back and I jolted awake to see Bulma's chair swiveled towards mine, her lean legs glowing under the ship's hazard lights. I remained very still as she combed her hands through my hair until she reclined back, chewing one of her nails. Her hair was pulled into a side ponytail._

"_You look just like your father," she said._

"_Uh… yeah, I know. Everybody tells me that." I sat straighter and looked around the hull. "Is something going on that you needed to wake me up for? Are we close to Namek?"_

"_We're getting there. I was just being friendly."_

"_Oh. Okay. Well I'm gonna go back to sleep."_

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Groggy, I roused from my dream to see Bulma standing in the doorway of her bedroom, far more aged than the precocious woman from memory. She was wearing a red negligee that shifted my stomach uncomfortably and carrying a tray of food in her hands that she brought to me while sashaying her hips. My eyes were pounding but I managed to push myself up into a sitting position as Bulma took a seat beside me and carefully set the tray across my lap.

Her blue eyes roamed across my chest that was still bare and I flinched when I felt her nails stroke my skin with feathery curiosity. She rescinded her hand to watch me continue to gather myself, struggling against the ferocity of my hangover. All I could recall was drinking enough wine to down a bull elephant. Mercifully, the details of our night together were entirely lost to me.

I swallowed, stifling a groan. "Good… morning."

The food was appetizing enough to quell my nausea. I slowly ate, gradually returning to consciousness and grappling with my actions from the night before. Obviously I remembered that we had slept together and I had a sinking feeling that the rest would trickle back with time after I had banished my hangover. Perhaps the only cure was to become a raging alcoholic like my brother.

Bulma smiled at me and touched my knee, hardly visible below the silky sheets. "I'm going out for just a little while with Trunks, but when I get back, I was going to the opera. Care to come along?"

_No._

"Yeah, yeah," I said, wincing when I accidentally peered at the lights, "that sounds wonderful. It will give me some time to recover."

"Mhm. Rest up and enjoy your food. I'm going to drop by your parent's house to drop something off for your father and see how Goten and Valese are doing." Bulma rose, eyeing me in the same hungry manner from the previous night. "Though I could use some relaxing myself."

I promptly began to choke on my pancakes, nearly losing them on the bed where I had sacrificed my dignity to keep my nymphet from flitting away. Self-satisfaction crossed Bulma's face and she winked at me as she crossed the room to her enormous closet that opened entirely on its own. It wasn't nervousness from being faced with what we had done—it was much closer to revulsion.

Bulma turned to face me, holding a red dress against her body. "What do you think of this? We're not going anywhere fancy this afternoon and I certainly won't wear it to the opera."

"You have to excuse me; I was never much help to Erasa when she was sifting through her hoard of clothing. Women's fashion doesn't come as naturally to me as my own."

"That's true. Ah well, at least I don't have to dress you like I did Vegeta. He and your father both preferred wearing their hideous training uniforms, in case the urge to punch each other unconscious struck them during a family party. Morons."

The scent of cigarettes wafted throughout the room while Bulma finished getting dressed, twisting several times in front of her body mirror to examine her choice. Her spinal cord was entirely exposed down to the tail bone and her skin was beginning to feel the effects of old age. I looked down at my chest, still rippled with muscle and as firm as it had been when I was seventeen, parading around as a vigilante in a ridiculous costume. I aged very slowly.

Bulma spritzed on perfume, still taking long drags from her cigarette and dashed it out at the last moment. I had stomached what I could of my meal and set the tray beside myself on the bed when she approached, leaning down to press her bright red lips to my forehead. She smiled down at me and brushed my hair back from my face.

"You look just like your father," she said.

I sat in silence after she had left and pondered her words.

Coughing interrupted my reverie and I glanced up to see my nymphet nudging open the bedroom door with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She peered around the room and stole inside, shutting the door behind her and leaping upon the bed. I groaned, clutching my throbbing head as she began to pick at the food I hadn't eaten. She was wearing pajama shorts and a camisole that exposed her arms.

Bulla folded her legs in a pretzel form and lazily chewed her bacon. "You look like you wanna barf. I gave up reading your weird book, too. There's too much Latin." Her blue eyes traveled down my throat to my chest and she cocked her head curiously. "Are you still naked?"

I quickly shifted away from her when one exploratory hand stretched toward me. "I was only in here to talk to your mother. I don't wear much to bed."

"Liar. I heard both of you when I went to the bathroom last night. Well, it was mostly mom, but she's always been really loud."

"Terrific. What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be in school?"

The nymphet swallowed what was in her mouth and grasped my thigh with both hands to lean toward me, mouth agape so I could see down her throat. There were familiar white patches toward the back that I recognized from my own illnesses during my youth. I nodded tersely, deeply concerned about her palms pressing into my flesh, but she stuck out her inflamed tongue toward me regardless.

"They think it's strep," Bulla said. "I don't feel that sick but I'm pretending so I can stay home from school." She sat back on the bed and resumed eating my scraps. Her shimmering blue hair was hanging in a low side ponytail, quite different from normal.

"I see. Well, enjoy your… meal. I'm going to prepare for the day."

"Whatcha doin'? Some stupid trip with mom? She's always with Trunks and Paris because she's so happy he's finally dating someone. She's not bad. I kind of like her. What ever happened with Goten and Valese? Are they still dating?"

"Living in my parents' basement," I muttered.

"Huh. That's too bad." Bulla dropped a fatty piece of bacon and idly gnawed on another, cerulean irises transfixed on me. It was pure torture. "Goten was always pretty hot. He's only like 25, right? Marron and I used to be obsessed with him when we were really little, but it stopped when she moved away. That and my dad heard us talking about him one night and got really mad."

"Enthralling. If you'd excuse me—"

Delicate fingers alighted upon my thigh again and I turned to see Bulla's scintillating eyes inches from mine as she balanced herself precariously above my lap. I didn't dare breathe. I didn't even consider moving a muscle. I remained perfectly still, a novice hunter examining his prey. She puckered her lips and studied me with casual indifference before curling loose strands of silky hair behind an ear.

I tightened my grip on the bedsheets as she slipped between my legs, now supporting her weight on both of my thighs. It was negligible; it felt as if she was made of nothing but hollow bones like a bird. Her eyes flickered down to my chest and she prodded my collarbone, eliciting a poorly stifled rumble from my throat that didn't fall upon deaf ears. She giggled in an alluring manner that reminded me of chiming bells and then she held my cheeks between both of her small hands.

It was pitiful. Me, a grown man who had stood in the very epicenter of evil, battling alongside my alien father and his comrades, was reduced to a jaw-clenched fool before a nymphet. She had bewitched me, body and soul, and there was no feasible escape. I had an irritating habit of committing myself entirely to those who did not return my affections, made evident by my strained relationship with Goku.

Bulla bit her pink lower lip, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Her palms were the softest material I had ever felt and she maintained a lose grip upon me, just enough to hold my attention. My heart thundered against my sternum as I watched her tongue gracefully stroke her lips.

"Want to know a secret?" she asked.

I remembered to blink and combined it with very slight nodding, no doubt leading her to believe I was having a seizure. "Y-yes."

Her hands moved to my shoulders as she leaned her lips close to my ear. The smell of cucumber did nothing to relax me but I closed to my eyes to steady myself. Her palms were cool upon my hot skin—I wondered if the rest of her pale body was equally temperate. No, I mustn't touch until permission was given or everything I had worked tirelessly to achieve would disintegrate before my eyes.

"Goten used to babysit me when I was four," Bulla whispered, "but it was only a few times. You were always busy with Erasa so I never met you. Krillin would leave Marron with us, too, and my brother was always out learning how to run Capsule Corp.

"One day, we were reading a book together and he asked me to sit in his lap. He only did it to me once but I remember he would lay next to Marron when we were napping and she would stare at me and cry. Dad caught him pulling me into his lap one day and started punching him until Goku told him to stop. I think they told Krillin, too. That's why Marron moved away and never came back."

Violent, putrid hate burned through me anew. How dare Goten sully my nymphet. "Did my brother touch you?"

She hesitated.

Thinking about the consequences of my actions wasn't particularly important. I pushed Bulla aside onto the bed and rose, pulling on my clothing with my jaw locked in place. She reclined back to watch me with a satisfied smile on her mouth and I knew I was being toyed with. I didn't care, however.

"I'll be back," I said.

"Okie dokie!" Bulla replied brightly. "Thanks a bunch, Gohan."

"Sure."

Then the nymphet suddenly rose, grasping my forearm as I walked away. She tugged me to the edge of the bed and balanced on her knees to hold my face between her silky palms once again. Her smile widened; coy and nervous. "I'll be in my room when you come back. Don't forget to see me."

I could only nod in response. It wasn't to avenge Bulla's loss of innocence. My creeping demon demanded that I pummel my brother until his features became a sloppy, bloody mess of cracked bone and tissue to preserve my own sanity. If I destroyed him, my nymphet would be a pure image again.

For now, she had been tainted by another man's hands.


	13. Treize

**A/N:** Sweet Jesus, thank you for all the awesome reviews! Two in particular were especially helpful. I'm glad Bulla seems like her age; I have a tough time characterizing younger people. AND I'm especially happy Gohan is being portrayed the way I wanted. No darkfic can exist without just a touch of humor. You need to be able to laugh at one point or another.

Also, writing all this Gohan fanfiction is making me seriously crave Aizen fanfics. Every time I watch Bleach I think "Gohan, what are you doing, go back to DBZ!" and then I want to write a fanfic more than words can express. Unfortunately, I hardly know a thing about the Bleach universe and it's hellishly complicated.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Treize ::

A sweet cacophony of shrieking and shouting greeted me through the thick wooden door of my childhood home, and of course the image wasn't complete without smoke curling from the chimney into the overcast sky. The grass crunched underneath my hard, determined footsteps as I rapidly approached the flimsy door to destroy it with one swift kick. It flew across the foyer to crash into the opposing wall beside the stairs and I stepped inside, dusting off my suit while my eyes calculated the next step.

The agonized sobbing of a woman hardly caught my attention but the deserted lunch in the kitchen attracted my sweeping gaze. It was peculiar for either of my parents to abandon a meal. Bulma was otherwise engaged with her son and his lover, meaning she couldn't provide distraction to my mother. My eyes narrowed when something made of porcelain shattered in the basement. Chi-Chi had vacated the house in a hurry to avoid listening to the commotion, no doubt. Goku would never leave a scrap of food behind.

My nose wrinkled in distaste at the pungent aroma of alcohol reeking through the air. It did nothing to help my still pernicious hangover that had yet to fully leave my body, but my sheer willpower had flown me through the skies to the place my pitiful brother performed his greatest acts of leeching. He was a trained parasite; draining my dignity, draining my mother's tight finances, and draining the life from his resident captive human.

I pushed my sleeves to my elbows, repulsed. Goten had overstepped his petulant boundaries. I'd found his frantic struggling to remain afloat amusing for some time and relished in his much-debated departure from college. He was a fool, just like his father. My teeth gnashed together and I proceeded toward the basement with my energy fluctuating like never before. I hadn't felt the warm tug of my Saiyan instinct in so many years—that sickening yet empowering urge to obliterate transgressors.

It surfaced in different ways for all of us. My father's was heavily constrained, which I attributed to brain damage incurred when he smashed his head falling into a ravine. Vegeta was outwardly aggressive and cruel as most Saiyans while his son diligently exercised and pursued women to control himself, intent upon constructing the image of a normal man like I was. I kept my own strength frozen beneath the surface rather than engaging in activities to release it. Goten was akin to a raging inferno.

The door was locked for some infantile reason. I snapped the doorjamb clean off and walked with gruesome purpose down the stairs to the epicenter of the fight, a place I was very comfortable being. Goku had a fondness for crushing me under the pressure of wars I could never win alone.

The basement was miserably cold, even in comparison to my overwhelming inner heat; a result of a metabolism that would frighten a human doctor. Goten was looming over the quivering image of a woman who was clawing at her hair to hide her face, twisted into the furthest shadow she could discover. My brother's abyssal black eyes shifted toward me and he smiled. He raised a hand to point his index finger at me while the other four clung to a bottle of rum. He staggered, nearly spilling alcohol upon his torn white undershirt, and exposed a hint of his hip bone beneath tattered sweatpants.

Goten was truly the spitting image of Goku—a visceral version engulfed in the same torment bequeathed upon the other half-Saiyans. We were torn asunder by our violent, alien natures clashing with the frightened human that held the other half of our souls. Mercifully, Trunks and I had mastered our Saiyan half and rendered it less than an occasional nuisance. Bulla, my beautiful nymphet, was far too young to be troubled by such matters.

As I gazed dispassionately into my brother's deceptively warm eyes, I realized he would never have that same extent of control over himself. He was too much like Goku.

Valese's trembling fingers parted and her eyes, filled with tears, focused on me. I hardly noticed her but Goten stepped between us with in a languid motion and tipped the bottle of rum to his lips. It was hardly fitting for a man of his caliber. We were powerful beings descended from an ancient race. What a humiliation he was to our dying species. Surely Vegeta would have destroyed him alone.

Goten grinned. "What's up, Gohan? Valese and I are having a talk right now, so we're a little busy."

I curled my lip at him in disgust, twisting my neck. "Mother is so elated with your new pet that she seems to have left her lunch early. I'm equally happy that she provides you so much quiet time to throw a human woman from pillar to post, but I have other business with you."

"I'm not throwin' _anybody_!" Goten suddenly shouted, hurling the bottle of alcohol on the ground. It shattered and Valese squealed in terror, pressing herself closer to the wall. "It's self-defense! She always starts it and y'know how humans are. If ya don't keep 'em in line, they think they can do what'er they want. Dad doesn't keep mom in line and lookit her!"

None of the monsters in my soul inspired me to place my hands on an innocent woman. I was wracked by my demons on a constant basis, resorting to nefarious techniques to keep them at bay, but of all the horrors that echoed through my mind in a sultry whisper, none provided me with that vice.

"Forget her!" I snapped. "I'm not here to debate the morality of you shoving a woman around your filthy bedroom. I spoke with—"

"I told you, I ain't shovin' nobody! If you don't stop lyin' to people…" Goten paused and clutched his head with a pained wince. "Fuckin' Trunks won't even call me anymore… Remember when we used to pull pranks on you? Man, you were such a goddamn nerd, Gohan. Yer still are a goddamn nerd and that's why you couldn't keep a… a fuckin' human around."

In two strides I had my brother by the collar of his shirt and dragged his face very close to mine, ignoring the putrid smell of alcohol on his breath. "I'm not here to listen to your inebriated blathering." My grip tightened considerably and his grin expanded. "I was speaking to Bulla not too long ago, and she let me in on a very interesting secret. Any ideas, little brother?"

"Nope, not a one. But if ya don't get yer hands off me, I've got a couple ideas worked up."

"Don't make me humiliate you in front of your lady friend," I said.

"Why're ya so aggressive, Gohan? Y'know I could beat the shit out of you these days, with all the training I do with pops." Goten seized my wrists in his hands and his smirk drooped into a vicious scowl. "I've been dyin' to punch the hell out of you for a long time now."

"What did you to do Bulla?"

"I didn't do _nothin'_ to Bulla," Goten spat.

It had been years since I last brawled with another Saiyan and even longer since the last enemy had threatened Earth, leaving me to commit all of my time and energy to my studies and work. I'd become borderline placid during my marriage to Erasa in my unending struggle to disguise the desires lurking within my soul. But my brother twisted my rage in a way I had never felt before, rapidly dispelling the efforts of years of restraint.

The guilt glittered in his half-lidded black eyes. He had corrupted what was mine.

Valese screamed in terror when I punched Goten ferociously in the cheek, sending him flying across the basement into the opposite wall. It of course could not restrain the velocity and he was crushed into the earth surrounding the cement with a sickening crack. My brother wiped blood from his mouth and I felt his energy snap, illuminating his body in glowing golden light as she staggered to his feet. Cement crumbled around him in a smoky haze of rubble.

It wasn't another one of our petty sibling rivalry scuffles. We never increased our power when we were throwing punches at one another while our mother watched and folded laundry. I wrenched apart the last bindings suppressing my strength and seized the festering core of my alien other half, immediately exploding into the same vibrant light as my brother. Goten laughed coldly and ran a hand through his hair to slick it across his scalp.

"Let's go to it, then," he said.

My reflexes had grown laboriously slow from misuse and I was helpless when he hurled me upwards so I careened through the roof and hardly managed to catch myself midair. Goten erupted from the same gaping hole I had crushed through the shingles and my power waxed in outrage at the sight of his unctuous smile. If he wasn't prepared to admit the truth, I would squeeze it from his windpipe.

Firing energy at one another wasn't how I wanted to settle our fight. Nothing short of shattering Goten's ribs would leave me satisfied in the end, and I needed to feel his life crushed beneath my fingertips. I removed my jacket, tossing it carelessly to the ground, and freed myself of my tie. After I had assumed a stance to encourage my brother to make the first move, he did so with lightning speed.

We collided in a flurry of punches but Goten's drunkenness made it difficult to maintain focus and I soon slammed my palm into his face to hurl him to the earth. A crater shattered through the swaying grass and I fell upon him again, sufficiently pinning him down to brutally slug his cheek opposite directions, staining my white dress shirts. It was truly a pity to destroy my favorite article of clothing with gore, but I would forever treasure it as a symbol of my devotion to Bulla.

Goten caught one of my fists in mid-punch and threw it aside to set off my balance, allowing him a brief moment to finally land a hit of his own. It was forceful enough to force me off of him and several feet across the grass but the pain was negligible. I remained on my hands on knees upon the ground while he staggered from the crater with a black eye, clutching the other side of his face. I had yet to assault his body and break any of those precious bones.

He winced. "Fuck, what is your problem, you goddamn psychopath?! You nearly tore my face off! I'll need more than one senzu bean to fix this."

I rose to my feet and cracked my knuckles. My expression was drawn into a cold snarl. "Admit what you did to Bulla and I might let you go with your legs attached. Continue to avoid me, and I will stuff the bloody stumps down your throat."

"See, that's the kind of shit that makes me think you're completely insane. Who says that? Even Cell never threatened to do anything like that, and he was—"

"I defeated Cell," I hissed, "and I contributed to the fall of Frieza. You were hardly an afterthought, you insignificant worm. You were a little gift Goku left behind for our mother to raise while he pranced around in the Other World, punching other men to his heart's content. You are nothing but a foul cockroach; a scar upon our family tree. They will thank me for burning you away."

My younger brother sneered at me and spat blood upon the ground. His energy was already beginning to wan—alcohol significantly impaired our abilities. "You're fucking crazy, you know that? Grasping at straws to justify how much our parents love me in comparison to you. You think you've outgrown your damn family because Bulma hooked you up with a job at Capsule Corp. Lucky fucking break."

"Bulma didn't 'hook me up' with anything. I received my position after many years of devotion to my career, made possible by my intellect that mother fostered. If it weren't for her, I would be the same troglodyte as you and Goku." I gnashed my teeth together and took a step toward Goten, anger burning out of control. "Tell me what you did to Bulla!"

Finally, Goten's legs collapsed from underneath him and he fell to the ground, supporting himself on a trembling arm. He was feigning injury, too drunk to fight to his full strength. He sat cross-legged and leaned forward into his lap, cradling his head with both hands as his golden aura vanished. I reluctantly powered down when his defeated laughter rang through the hills of Mt. Paozu.

My brother concealed his delighted smile with one bloody hand. "Why'd she tell you? You're not exactly a fourteen year old girl's type." Then he smeared his palm across his mouth to leave behind a grotesque streak of blood and he shrugged. "Eh, I guess you two both have daddy problems. Makes sense."

"Get on with it."

"Why do you want the nitty-gritty details? I watched her and Marron and stuff happened. Didn't like Bulla much, though. She was squirmy and too damn smart for her own good. _Marron_, on the otherhand, was completely perfect for me. I was scared Android 18 would find out but I knew Vegeta finding out I'd touched his precious princess was even worse. So I went after the weaker one: made her sit in my lap, napped with her, wrestled with her…" He paused and sighed contently, closing his eyes. "I love that rush you get from pinning them down. They're so weak and frail. I bet Marron's gotten even hotter by now."

"What did you do to Bulla?" I said. "I don't care about the other."

Goten regarded me lazily, puckering his lips. "You seem so innocent that I don't wanna ruin it for you. Why aren't you telling the police or mom and dad instead of slapping me around?"

My temper flared, threatening to make me raise my power level. "Last chance."

He rolled his eyes dismissively. The smile returned in a familiar shape—I had seen it in my own reflection when I ruminated over my obsession with the nymphet. "It wasn't bad for a while. She'd sit in my lap like Marron and didn't say anything about it, but she started getting whiny when I tried touching her while she was sleeping. One day I was too impatient and made her sit on me and she was screaming like you wouldn't believe. Christ, I'd never seen Vegeta move so damn fast. Long story short, I got thrown out of the house and I think Marron ratted me out, because Krillin and 18 moved away."

It was more or less the same story Bulla had related to me. I had expected something far worse and felt my fury dissipate upon learning Goten would no longer be a threat. I had bloodied him sufficiently to send a message and protect my nymphet's delicate image. Scowling at him, I turned to collect my jacket and leave the scene before my parents arrived home.

There was a snap of fingers, distilling the crisp air. "But there _was _this one time I made her suck me off. Was that the kind of thing you were curious about, big brother?"

Our palms met in a cataclysmic explosion of golden light that drenched the entire valley, illuminating every dark corner and hidden recess. Goten's fingers clutched my own as I drove him backwards into the dirt, every inch of my body poised to kill. I could not let him escape unscathed for such an atrocity.

"Why're you so pissed off?" Goten chortled, gaining ground. He bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "Were you considering the same thing? She's pretty fucking hot, isn't she?"

The earth caved beneath the pressure of our sheer energy. We were battling for dominance.

"Shut up!" The lie poured from my mouth: "I would never do such a thing to a child!"

"Self-righteous bastard."

"Deleterious cur."

"Look at you, pulling out the SAT words," Goten said.

Suddenly, my brother's eyes widened and he managed to hurl me away from him. He turned on his palms to see Valese fleeing the scene, clad in one of Goku's orange training shirts and running as fast as a human could. He swore profusely and allowed his strength to disappear to give chase, choosing to move on foot rather than fly after her.

I rose with full intentions of pursuing him to the ends of the Earth when I saw another flash of orange and heard Valese's shrill scream yet again. They were beyond the bend of a hill that I cleared in several seconds to see my father holding the girl by her biceps with a positively bewildered expression. She twisted and fought against him and he finally relinquished her to Goten, who grabbed her by the throat and whispered something into her ear that caused her to sob with greater ferocity.

The two began to walk toward the house and I pivoted on my foot to give chase when I was immediately cut-off by Goku's appearance not two feet before me. I stumbled away from him, still exuding my aura, and he cocked his head stupidly. His eyes were always hollow.

My father scratched his head. "Something going on, Gohan? Your brother's pretty beat up. And why are you a Super Saiyan? You haven't done that in forever."

I'd begun to respond when I noticed five distinct red lines along his neck, partially disguised by his shirt. My eyes narrowed as I suppressed my energy and returned to normal. Erasa had been an unabashed scratcher, clawing at my flesh at every available moment during sex. It was only a vague reminder; a slight similarity. There was no conceivable notion to suggest…

"What happened to your neck?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, this old thing?" He quickly clapped a hand over the gashes and I noticed his Adam's apple bob before he finished speaking. "It's nothing. So uh, I should probably go help Goten with that weird human before he hurts her by accident again. See you around, Gohan!"

I stood silently for a long while after Goku disappeared via instant transmission. Soon the hills were awash with the shrieks of Valese yet again and I collected my things, turning once more to glance at my childhood home over my shoulder. The breeze swayed through the grasses and trees and extinguished the fading smoke pouring from the chimney.

_Perhaps, _postulated my creeping demon as I flew toward West City, _you are not the only one with a despicable secret._


	14. Quatorze

**A/N:** Many of the lemons in this will be communicated in the next chapter via flashbacks. Don't ask me why, I just like doing it that way in this story. Thanks for all the reviews, too! I'm really surprised at how many people write them.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Quatorze ::

The home I had shared with Erasa for nearly two decades had become significantly derelict during our first month of divorce. I'd sent her the money as my lawyer suggested and already paid the property tax for the year, which meant my dear ex-wife had very little to worry about. However, the grass on our rather small front lawn had grown out of control and the garden she was so fond of had withered and died. My hands remained in my pockets as I walked with a deep scowl upon my face.

Things worsened when I stepped upon the porch with my dirty jacket slung over my arm. My tie was wound loosely around my neck and I was normally quite unwilling to be in public with such a grungy appearance but I assumed that wouldn't matter to Erasa. I only had a couple of probing questions for her. My eyes swept across the filth strewn across the porch and settled on the cracking shingles. She had allowed our very expensive home to fall into disrepair. Typical woman.

There was no reply when I knocked twice on the creaking door, so I found the second key hidden beneath the welcome mat and allowed myself inside. It was highly likely that I was breaching our divorce contract and violating the law, but I needed to ask my wife if she had done the unthinkable. My friends and family were all rousing my suspicions as of late. I was discovering sickening truths.

White blankets had been tossed over much of the furniture in the living room and there were no lights on to guide my way. My eyes narrowed as I tentatively felt around the house for Erasa's energy and discovered she was upstairs in our old bedroom. It was a useful trick. I had become so committed to my human façade that I entirely forgot how to seek the pulsing force of another living being.

I draped my jacket across the railing of the stairs and slowly ascended them, pinpointing Erasa's energy to be sure she wouldn't try to flee. Goku was too much of a fool to give me a straight answer. He would touch his hair and smile, the guilt burning across his face, but I would never know the truth. I was growing tired of the secrets my family kept. Goten had burst forth into his true self easily enough. My father, on the other hand, was a deceptive enigma.

Dust scattered around my feet as I walked to our bedroom. Her energy rose somewhat but quickly rescinded within her when she recognized my footsteps. I gently pushed open the door to enter the room, still exhausted from my encounter with Goten. He was always scrappier than me.

Erasa was sitting bolt upright in our large, canopied bed with the covers gathered up to her stomach. Her blonde hair was held up haphazardly with multicolored clips and she was poring over a scrapbook that was open to several glossy photos. I shut the door behind me to attract her attention and her somber grey eyes rose, widening upon discerning me through the darkness. Her skin was sallow.

My gaze flickered to her thin fingers grasping the turned edge of the photo page. Clearly, I had been wrong. There was no feasible situation she would meet with my father and sleep with him. It appeared that she hadn't come out on bed in quite a long while. Calling beforehand would've been more prudent as opposed to appearing unannounced, but I had hoped to catch her doing something incriminating.

Realizing I had nothing to gain from an encounter with my ex-wife, I tapped into my vortex of power to vanish from the house in an instant, snatching my jacket on the way out.

The day was coming to a hazy conclusion and I longed to return to my nymphet as I had promised, but I could not do so until I uncovered Goku's secret. It was a crippling facet of my neurotic personality to obsess and dissect the unknown, which assumed itself as a blessing and a curse. I kept my jacket securely across my elbow and walked through the bustling city amid the roar of trucks and peal of car horns. It was a pleasant dissonance that engulfed the din of my inner turmoil.

Energy leaked from my unprotected center like thick ooze that blanketed the humans I indifferently passed on the sidewalk. The weight of my ki was enough to make a few women stumble from their path, heels clacking as they twisted in circles to regain their composure. Men dressed like myself also grimaced and turned their necks as they walked by clutching their briefcases, no doubt attributing the immense pressure to their own stresses.

It had been milder during my youth, when I spent hours upon end training with Piccolo or expending every ounce of strength my body could offer. Energy dispersed so frequently and with such great force that the concept of reining it within ourselves never seemed necessary. We hoped it was as simple as hiding energy but of course, no part of being a Saiyan came easily.

Piccolo devoted much of his time to teaching Trunks and I proper meditation techniques. My father and Vegeta were almost entirely unaffected, due to their constant training, and Goten was likewise in control of his energy. Trunks and I were becoming less and less involved in training our bodies and the bonds holding our ki at a reasonable level deteriorated during the process, which meant we spent many hours of our youths silently knotting them into place again.

The process was short and concise for my younger counterpart. He negated his Saiyan half almost entirely within a week, while I sloppily scooped my energy and crushed it deep within myself until I could hardly feel its presence. Even after an entire month of meditation with the Namekian who had first trained me to fight, the energy still drooled through unsealed cracks and occasionally wreaked havoc at Capsule Corp. or even family dinner.

Erasa and I were newlyweds during those difficult days, and I recalled quite clearly one evening when my ki bubbled forth with such ferocity that even Goku was thrown to the floor. It nearly splintered my human companion in two clean halves and my mother tended to her pain while my father recovered, dragging himself back into his chair while Goten looked on irately. I was hardly 22 and incomparably humiliated to lose control of my own powers in front of my new wife.

Goku found it highly amusing. His black eyes glittered with excitement, dredging forth memories of my "hidden powers" that never truly emerged. "See?! That's why you should quit your job and keep training. If you could just _control _that—"

I sputtered in fear and reached across the table to cover his mouth. "Dad! Erasa doesn't know about any of that, so do you mind not mentioning it?! I'm really happy with my job."

Needless to say, my father was highly disappointed. I was his prized possession at the time.

The humans around me grew distressed from the unseen source of their agony and I quickened my pace, turning down a dark alley to conceal my shame. The weight of my energy had no equal and it became an unhindered danger to weaker beings without proper constraints. I had acted rashly in releasing it to smack my brother around a bit, secretly hoping to knock some sense through his thick skull. Alas, it was nothing more than a snipe hunt.

Returning to Capsule Corp. was not a viable option. Bulma was a human, even if she behaved far more like a Saiyan, and even occupying her home from my bedroom would make her intensely uncomfortable. She would trace it to me and request that I leave.

Additionally, Bulla was not accustomed to feeling the weight of energy on her fragile bones. It was no surprise that Vegeta and Bulma had raised the nymphet like a human, as she showed strong tendencies of one, and I knew Vegeta was afraid to distress his princess. My energy in particular loomed like a black cloud full of the coldest rain; it drove inferior creatures far away.

I gritted my teeth as a cool breeze blew a soda can past my feet until it tinkered out of existence behind a dumpster. My nymphet would have to wait. If I wished to return to her, a day of quiet meditation would conceal my energy once more. All of my Saiyan instincts would fade.

"G-Gohan?"

My ears perked, nearly pivoting in interest as I turned underneath the flickering lamps to see a small woman standing at the entrance of the alley. My heart thundered with fresh excitement, pulsing more unnerving ki into the surrounding atmosphere.

Videl had her toned arms folded across her chest and was bundled in a sweater that concealed her neckline well, much to my satisfaction. Her black hair was pulled away from her face that was unfortunately immersed in shadow but I was beginning to _feel_ again, inhaling scents like some kind of wild animal. The pungent aroma of salt alerted me that my withering nymphet had been crying.

I tilted my head, disarming. "Hm? We really must stop running into one another like this."

The rest was the purest definition of the snowball effect. With my released energy came the other "perks" of my Saiyan curse, namely far more heightened senses and an instinct that was enough to drive me mad. It was consuming: I was at the mercy of my alien half bequeathed upon me by Goku.

My insides violently snarled, requiring every remaining muscle that was not smiling at Videl to forcibly hold my shiny leather shoes to the cracked pavement. It was all a farce. My friendly, human face concealed the monster raging within, starving for blood and war and sex. Energy was not a gift; I would have gladly sacrificed my ability to fly for a body that was not a battlefield strewn a thousand times with only my own corpse, mutilated each time I refused my instinct.

With my torrent of gruesome changes flowed my predatory desire that I longed to obscure from even myself, relentlessly denying that I wanted Videl to attempt to run from me. I wanted my nymphet so badly it burned within me, now an uncontrollable inferno that threatened to boil away my carefully construed inner world. How passionately I needed her could not be sufficiently translated to rational thought and at that pivotal moment, I could only act. My mind failed me.

The hustle of the city faded from my focus as I shoved Videl against the damp bricks lining the alley, promptly silencing her peeping objections with a passionate kiss. I groaned with ecstasy, clutching her smooth cheeks within my palms and unabashedly exploring a nymphet's hesitant mouth for the first time. It was the crowning achievement in my befuddled thoughts; I had finally tasted a nymphet after arduous years waiting for the proper moment to present itself.

Sexual release was an aid to my distended energy but it would not abate entirely. I was impatient, regardless. I had been waiting too long for an invitation between her soft thighs and pressed urgently against her, eliciting a surprised squeal and a swift pinch on my lower lip.

Dark, taciturn eyes probed mine. I inquisitively brushed my index finger across my mouth to feel the droplets of my blood before the scent permeated the cold air, mingling with the hot pressure of my energy. Videl's impulsive bite hadn't caused me any pain but it was enough to break our kiss and cause a lull in my ki which, to my surprise, wasn't affecting her as much as the other humans.

Memories of the training equipment littered across her decrepit apartment suggested that she was physically far beyond a normal female. It explained why she was still functional in spite of my energy now rampantly surging throughout the narrow alleyway, threatening to suffocate any human who wandered too near. They would know to stay far away from me, though they couldn't precisely define what made them enormously uncomfortable and frightened.

Videl shrank against the brick, apparently falling victim to my heightening levels of energy. "What was that f-for?" She suddenly shoved against my chest in an effort to broaden the space between us but I was stoic and impassive as osmium. We were hardly a foot apart.

"Ah-ah-ah," I said, waggling my finger sternly, "I am not required to explain my behavior to you. It's a bit dangerous for you to be walking about the streets."

"We didn't agree on anything!" Her protests dropped to an aggravated whisper and she leaned forward, casting her face in better light. Red circled her eyes, affirming my suspicions that she had been sobbing. "I didn't think you were going to kiss me for no reason and… t-that's not okay!"

"What are you doing out at this hour, Videl?"

"None of your business!"

I tentatively reached for my energy to bear down upon her and her shoulders finally began to show signs of weakening, drooping noticeably under the weight. "_Videl_, I really must know."

"I… I was only out for a walk. I needed to clear my head." She struggled to stand straighter, panting. "Do you feel that? It's like the air got really thick all of a sudden."

"No, I can't feel a thing. Perhaps we should retire to your apartment."

She winced up at me, unyielding, but I saw fear flash through her eyes. "Oh, it's kind of a mess right now so can we wait until tomorrow? I had some company over and didn't get to clean up. There's no school on Saturdays so if you want to drop by we can um… do that thing…" She suddenly grew fierce and covered her mouth with a distinctive pink blush. "But no more kissing!"

"Considering the apartment is entirely my investment that was more of a pleasantry than requesting an invitation. I'm hoping you will be a bit more approachable when we've settled in. Come along, Videl. We're quite close, correct?"

"You can't!" she spluttered as I grasped her wrist.

"Let's not forget our discussion from last week. I'm being quite generous with you."

The furious protests and twisting wrists continued the entire walk, intensifying up the stairs of her complex to the door of her apartment. Videl suddenly wrenched free of my grasp and pinned her body to the door to obscure the handle, now heaving for air under the ferocity of my energy. Sweat beaded upon her forehead as she swallowed to collect herself.

I raised an eyebrow. "Allowing me inside is an integral component of the equation."

Her lower lip quivered and she bowed her head in shame. "I… I really thought I could do this but… I don't think I can. Even if I ran away from home, I can't lower myself to… to…"

"Would you prefer to return to your ghastly box in the filthy part of the city?" I touched her chin to my fingertip, forcing her to look at me. It was becoming difficult to think on one plane. "I'll be quite gentle. We are merely exchanging two equivalent services with one another."

Tears brimmed in her dark eyes. "B-but sex is supposed to be—"

"Shh," I murmured, "don't fret." My eyes drifted to her pale lips that she continually tugged on with her teeth. "It's not nearly as important as you believe."

Videl's willpower crumbled beneath my words of encouragement and the stifling presence of my energy. With a soft, relegated sob, she turned to unlock her door and the key crunched satisfactorily along the mechanism, permitting us inside its dark depths. I could hear her pulse above all else, pattering in terror while the door shut yet again, closing off the light from the hall.

I twisted the lock and smiled down at her tear-streaked face. She was resigned to her fate.

"Don't worry, Videl," I said. "I won't tell if you won't tell."


	15. Quinze

**A/N:** Short than usual but it took a different turn than I expected.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Quinze ::

It was quite rare for me to indulge in a cigarette but upon awakening the following morning, I withdrew the one tucked away in my breast pocket and slowly drew the toxic fumes into my lungs. My energy had recoiled from whence it came and I was no longer in danger of accidentally breaking the nymphet sleeping quietly beside me. Trembling, I exhaled the first inhalation in a series of rings, dashing my ashes into an open beer can resting on Videl's nightstand.

Our clothing was strewn across the floor, removed during our various phases of undress. I'd been a bit disappointed with the lack of organization in her bedroom but lost interest almost immediately in favor of collapsing to her unmade sheets, arms wound tightly around her. She had been small and impossibly warm; truly venerable amongst the nymphets I had encountered throughout my life. I took a long drag from the cigarette and ashes fell onto the sheets, extinguished beneath my fingertip.

And, to my delight, Videl had not entirely resisted me. She relented after enough encouragement, devolving to become an object of desire rather than the feisty female I had encountered in the alley. I'd tasted the sweetness between her legs and left marks with my teeth upon the soft flesh of her inner thighs, relishing it her tormented mewls. I'd expected her to have a bit of curls but she was blissfully bare before my mouth and probing fingers. Her breasts were rather small as well yet headily malleable under my kneading palms.

Nirvana was the sensation of slipping through her tight, wet flesh. It was her dark eyes half-lidded with pleasure suddenly opening wide synonymously with her swollen lips as I pressed deep within her, no longer restrained to quietly stroking myself. It was watching her small body writhe beneath mine in ecstasy and feeling her thin fingers grasping my biceps, squeezing to brace for each thrust. It was knowing the flushed nymphet I was buried deep within belonged to _me_.

Regardless, Videl was beginning to wither away from her period of appeal. She was a worthy substitute for Bulla until the latter was prepared for me, and offered some semblance of preparation for that evening. There were two long years between the two and I assumed Videl had lost her virginity before meeting me, leaving me to only guess at what Bulla would feel like. Self-control was vital.

The cigarette was gone far too quickly and I dropped it inside the beer can as Videl began to stir beside me. She blearily sat up, stretching her lean arms toward the ceiling which allowed the comforter obscuring her breasts to fall away. My eyes drifted across her soft form and I could hardly resist as she smacked her lips several times to draw herself into consciousness. She yawned and slowly looked to me.

Videl's eyes immediately popped upon seeing my exposed chest and the incline of my hip bones beneath the hem of my boxers. I watched with rapt attention as her creamy skin turned fifty shades of red and she scooped up as many blankets as possible to cover her breasts from my hungry eyes. This resulted in revealing more of my waist, placing the nymphet in an impossible conundrum. She muttered a curse and leaned forward to press her face into the sheets, unveiling her rippled spine.

"You're so frail," I murmured, reaching out to brush her arm with my fingertips.

"I'm not _frail_, I'm just small like this." She turned her head, peering up at me with dread. "Please tell me I was dreaming about last night and that you're only half-naked in my bed because we were really drunk and playing strip poker."

"I don't care for gambling."

The nymphet groaned in embarrassment and clamored out of bed to rush to her shower, permitting me a view of her naked form without darkness blanketing it. She would suffice well enough. Bulla was tentatively tiptoeing across boundaries by touching my face and revealing her tragedy with Goten to me. It would certainly only take several more weeks before she was knotted around my finger, eager to please my every whim. I needed to be sure she wouldn't speak a word to the others.

There was a minor problem I had overlooked in my haste to bed Videl. My energy had returned to its normal state but it had been leaking in enormous quantities, no doubt arousing the attention of my father and Goten. The pressure of my ki could have even stirred Trunks, who would undoubtedly wonder why I had chosen to free my inner power. I was quite lucky that none of them had decided to investigate the incident and stumbled upon Videl and I in bed together.

Bulla would be cross with me for failing to return to her the previous afternoon. I stepped out of bed to collect my clothing, lazily composing myself enough to fly home high amongst the cloud layer. It was inconsequential. My nymphet was at school and Bulma was likely amusing herself shopping or harassing her son and his steady girlfriend, meaning I would have Capsule Corp. to myself. It offered enough time for me to update my journal entries in regard to my first night with a nymphet.

I shuffled to the living room to adjust my tie in the body mirror haphazardly leaning on the wall beside the television and had just finished recollecting myself when I heard a knock on the door. The water in the bathroom stopped soon after but I assumed I was composed enough to pass as an innocent friend of Videl's rather than her lover. I briefly ran a hand through my hair to tame the mess before strolling to the door and idly opening it without a second thought.

Goku was smiling at me, aglow in the early morning sun. "Heya, Gohan! Last night I felt your energy flaring like crazy and I wanted to check it out, but your mother wouldn't let me leave the house. How'd you end up all the way over here?"

My father seemed agitated. I was hesitantly allowing the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place.

I raised an eyebrow and leaned on the doorframe to continue fixing my tie. Nonchalance was the best course of action. "After I was through pummeling Goten I went for a walk and stumbled upon Videl. She's a very nice girl to allow me to stay the night and meditate. My energy is back under control now so there's no need to worry."

"…Oh. So you stayed here?"

"Yes, I did."

There was a patter of feet upon the floor and both Goku and I glanced back to see Videl emerging from her bedroom, wet black hair plastered to her scalp. A pink towel obscured her dripping body and her grasp tightened around it when her eyes fell upon my father. I stepped back politely to observe their exchange, curious to know if my paranoia was justified.

"W-what are you doing here?" Videl stammered toward Goku.

He leaned back, rubbing his head and smiling weakly. "What do you mean? I only came to make sure Gohan was okay, that's all."

"Hm, Videl seems terribly upset," I said. "Is there anything you would like to share with me, Goku? Perhaps the reason you have scratch marks along your neck will incite a conversation."

"He was the one leaving things outside of my apartment!" Videl accused, pointing to my father. She was shivering, eyes wide and a bit afraid. "I knew I could feel someone watching me ever since the night he brought me home from the bar, and… I just wanted to forget about him. But he kept following me _everywhere _and just wouldn't leave me alone!"

"What?! I barely remember you!"

"Oh, this is a truly heartwarming reunion," I said, folding my arms and smiling. "Though I really wished you had told me sooner, Videl. Mother will be so pleased to hear about her precious Goku's nighttime exploits. You're terrible at keeping secrets."

It was profoundly satisfying to watch my father plead with me to keep the truth from Chi-Chi, desperately glancing over his shoulder to be sure none of the neighbors were listening. I watched him indifferently, head tilted to the side while he assured me repeatedly that he would leave Videl alone. The Saiyan within me was rejoicing at the image of his begging; fiendishly gleeful knowing both my brother and father were afflicted with the same curse I carried.

Ah, it was a sickeningly convenient situation I had been thrust within: Goten would finally be crucified as a monstrosity and Goku would be ousted from his home, leaving my mother is peace. If I adhered to my part, playing the grief-stricken eldest child and comforting Chi-Chi, I would be in the good graces of all of our friends. They would praise me for doing the right thing and revealing my family's dark secrets.

Videl's small hand grasped my elbow as she came to stand beside me, dark eyes glistening with tears while Goku grew more desperate. Her lower lip trembled.

"When he brought me back from the bar," the nymphet whispered, "he put me down in my bed and I thought he was going to leave right after. I… I was only half-conscious when I felt him sit next to me and I blacked out after that. But I when I woke up naked and felt the _pain_, I knew what happened." She looked up at me somberly, words failing. "And yesterday morning he came back again."

"I don't know what she's talking about," Goku said. "I really don't. You know I would never…" He shifted uncomfortably and I could see the guilt in his eyes.

Each vertebra in my spinal column prickled with disparate emotions. It was peculiar to be besieged with such acute hatred and appalling reverence for my father, who caused me nearly as much torture as the creeping demon tearing my soul asunder. I stared at him while he twiddled his thumbs and Videl sobbed into my arm, violently rent between snapping his neck for attacking her and praising him for having her at all. Had I inherited my curse? Or were both Videl and Bulla only disconnected circumstances?

"Tell me," I said, "have there been any others?"

Goku squeezed his eyes shut like a child and clutched his head. "No, no, no, I don't know what either of you are talking about! I only came here to check on you, Gohan, a-and if you're okay, I'm going home!"

The nymphet grasping my elbow suddenly advanced on my father and tried to punch him in the stomach, but he easily grasped her fists in his hands to hold her still. She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, and before I could regain control of the situation they had both disappeared.

_Goddamn instant transmission._

Simmering with questions and outrage, I pulled on my jacket and left Videl's apartment to pursue them. Goku's energy made him a beacon that I pinpointed easily. I hurried down the stairs, brushing past humans along the way and intently tracing the pair to Kami's Lookout, a safe place for Goku to bring his prey. He was blind with misplaced fear that could potentially project onto the nymphet.

It was pleasant enough outside to fly and I flew as fast as I could into the air to put myself above the eyes of the people walking along the streets. I hovered above the cloud line for a few moments with my eyes closed, tentatively feeling the highest energy levels I could find until I confirmed Goku was at Kami's Lookout with Videl. I wouldn't let him leave without answering my inquiry. If we were all afflicted with the same disease, what shame should I have?

My creeping demon, satiated and languid from my evening with Videl, had nothing to offer during the flight. It waited in a silent, festering torpor.


	16. Seize

**A/N:** Don't worry, Bulla's coming back soon in full force. This is getting looooong. Next pairing?

EDIT: Added a poll! You'll notice the choices are a wee bit different than normal. Time to stretch my wings!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Seize ::

The safety of the human girl didn't concern me. My thoughts were strictly focused on Goku when I finally set foot on Kami's Lookout, hesitantly stretching my energy to detect my father. Confirmation of my suspicions was most prominent as I strode with dark purpose toward the main building. Were we that similar? After all the years I had spent convincing myself that Goku was my polar opposite, it was frightening to think we had a very real, nefarious connection.

Dende was standing near the door with his staff clutched in one hand, peering down the dark hall, and he started in surprise when I approached. I nodded politely to him and ground my jaw. It had been years since I last spoke to the presiding guardian of Earth, whose title was far less serious than it used to be. He watched but didn't intervene. Our ragtag group of warriors accepted that risk.

"Um, do you know why Goku is here?" the Namekian asked, shuffling his robes. His antennae twitched as if he were agitated. "Humans aren't technically supposed to come up here, but um… he looked upset. Could you ask him to bring her back to the surface?"

"You know what a fool Goku is. I'll collect her."

"Is something wrong?" Dende called when I walked away.

Videl's energy was vastly different from Goku's, choking under the sheer force of his presence. Hers felt more like a feather brushing my skin as opposed to an ominous cloud bearing down upon me. My shoes clicked against the tile and I pushed my hands firmly in my pockets to keep from allowing my ki free of its bonds again. Of course Goku brought me on a wild goose chase. He lived to make me miserable.

Rows of doors passed. Dogged, I directed my attention to my father's bloated energy that was only expanding more and more; was he trying to kill Videl before she became an issue? It was a bit late. She had been shocked into silence until she thought she discovered an ally in me, believing I would protect her from his whims. I certainly would reveal Goku's secrets to our family and friends, but I would not offer the nymphet any sort of emotional support. That was reserved for Bulla.

There was a strong spike of ki to my left and I idly kicked the door down that was in my way with minimal effort. It groaned before collapsing with a satisfying crack, splintering down the center in a single, smooth line. This was smaller hallway but the faint sound of voices drew me down the right path rather than pursuing Goku's lurid energy. I would uncover what I needed.

Videl's angry harping pulled me to a sharp stop. "What the hell are you doing?! Get _off _me!"

My father had blanketed his power in an attempt to throw me off course but the shrieking peal of a nymphet never failed to attract my attention. I turned to face an open door with my hands still obscured in my pockets, only able to discern the faint outline of two bodies on a bed. The deepest section of the main hall on the Lookout did not let in natural light. It was a perfect place to bring prey.

I stepped forward slowly to lean on the doorframe, watching Videl grasping her towel around her breasts and lashing out at Goku. He was trying to pry her legs apart at the knees; for what purpose, I wasn't entirely sure. There was nothing in his body language to suggest he was interested in bedding her and he repeatedly apologized, struggling to contain her writhing form. The nymphet was far too concerned with protecting her integrity above the waist to properly resist him.

When her pale legs were finally parted and her sex was exposed, Videl burst into tears, clearly expecting the worst to happen. I waited patiently, calculating Goku's movements and behaviors from the door. He gently pressed her left thigh to the sheets and I could see it illuminated by a weak desk lamp, casting an eerie glow across the numerous love bites I had left the prior evening. I tilted my head slightly to admire them and Goku's eyes moved to her other thigh that was likewise splotched with bruises.

The only sound in the shadowy room was the nymphet sniveling as she began to understand that Goku wasn't going to attempt anything. I tapped my fingers on my arm while he stared at her marred creamy skin and brushed his thumb across the purple spots. He was hunched over her, otherwise unmoving.

"…What is this?" Goku asked.

"Ah, ah, ah," I chastised, shaking my head, "I asked you a question first."

His dark eyes regarded me with anguish, wrestling the same volatile emotions I had been confronted with. He looked down my perfectly preened suit. "I… I have nothing to tell you." Then he gathered Videl in his arms like a child holding a ragdoll, black irises wide and imploring. "W-what happened to her?"

The nymphet had truly gone limp with a glassy expression; acquiescent to her position.

There were no holds barred between Goku and I. He was in a precarious situation, delicate as glass teetering at the edge of a table, while I was still comfortably protected. I smiled, projecting the essence of confidence and charm, and he pulled Videl tighter to his chest. He couldn't keep her from me. I housed, fed, and clothed the girl. She was _mine_.

It was as if I had been freed from my prison at last. Not only were my father and brother implicitly suffering from the same illness I had contracted so many years ago, they were far more brutal than I. I had surmounting evidence against both and neither had a lick against me.

I was Gohan Son. I was the vice president of a multinational, billion-dollar corporation; a recent divorcee who had remained dutifully married for nearly two decades. Goten was a 25 year old inhabiting his mother's basement, imbibing alcohol like water and holding a human woman captive. And Goku? To me, Goku was nothing more than a fly on the wall. At long last, I held the swatter.

"That's the least of our concerns, Goku," I said. Idly, I nodded toward Videl. "This girl is very distressed and has suggested you…" I paused, pursuing my lips and savoring the words. They were sweeter than honey. "You _raped _her, if I heard correctly. She appeared a bit upset when I found her yesterday, and I did see those strange scratch marks on your neck. But surely you wouldn't do that to a teenager?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the nymphet's neck. "I… I… S-She didn't move a lot the first time and… she just wouldn't stop fighting me yesterday!"

"Have there been any others?" I asked.

"Of course not! I only did it because… oh, I don't know."

"Surely this attraction didn't spring forth into existence." I stood straight, intensifying my eyes upon my father, who was rocking back and forth. "What was your catalyst? The trigger?"

"I've been trying to figure that out," he moaned. He raised his head, tears in his eyes. The expression was hauntingly familiar—I had seen it many times across my own face, trying to find the physical manifestation on my evil in my reflection. "I mean, your mother and I haven't… you know…"

My hands flew out of my pockets, curled into fists. "Don't blame your debauchery on my mother," I spat, "or I'll tear your tongue out."

"Are you going to tell her? Please don't. I'll do whatever you want!"

And there sat my father, the savior of the universe, consistently grinning with glee before he vanished from my life or years at a time. My favorite instance was when he impregnated my mother and voluntarily died for seven years, leaving her alone to birth and raise Goten. I glared coldly at his trembling form, weak with fear and clutching the frozen form of a teenage girl.

I leaned back to my previous position and let my anger from his insult toward Chi-Chi ebb away. It was important to remain in control. Emotional outbursts would damage my power over him.

"Videl and I have an arrangement," I said. "I will ensure that she doesn't speak a word, and I won't, either. You can continue to do as you please—she means very little to me."

"Oh, thanks so much, Gohan, I just need a little longer to—"

"In exchange," I interrupted, narrowing my eyes, "you will evict Goten and Valese. Do what you will with the prior but be sure Valese is reunited with her human friends. I'm tired of mother fawning over him, trapping the girl in the process."

Goku blinked. "Haven't you met your mother before? She's not gonna just chuck him out in the cold like that. Heck, she wouldn't even do that to you when we caught you fooling around with Erasa."

"I suggest you devise a plan. Make sure Videl is home in a timely manner. She has school."

"Wait, you never told me about her thighs!" my father called as I turned to leave.

I glanced over my shoulder. An incomprehensible smile touched my lips and Videl began to reanimate, eyebrows drawing together with fury. "I haven't the faintest idea. I slept on the couch."

The girl suddenly screamed, snapping at Goku's fingers when he tried covering her mouth. "You son of a _bitch_!" she shrieked. "This wasn't a part of our deal! You can't leave me here with him!" Her hips twisted in his lap and I saw Goku's eyes roll briefly from the desperate movement. "I'm going to tell the police what you two did to me and then you'll both go to prison!"

"Oh, Videl, we've discussed this at length already," I murmured. "If I disappear for whatever reason, your assets are gone as well. You will be shipped back home or become a ward of the state, and I'm entirely positive you don't want that to happen. Foster homes are an ugly business. You aren't young enough to appeal to many families." I raised an eyebrow. "Or me."

The words flew over Goku's head. He pushed Videl down and I closed the door, dusting off my suit while the racket within the room became irritating sobbing. My father would subdue her.

It was a vastly different outcome than I had imagined but worked nonetheless. Goku had been pulled into my inexorable web with his own secrets, which proved to be far worse than my own. He was too much of a fool to realize I was nearly as guilty as he and would obey my commands. Goten would be thrown from the house to the streets and I would be able to have a pleasant afternoon drinking tea with my mother without Valese's unearthly screams ruining it.

Videl was mine. For now, she was on loan, a valuable commodity to tether Goku to my side. I detested him from the core of my being. We were somewhat alike and that made me nauseous.

Dende was waiting outside the entrance and peering just inside until he noticed me. He twiddled his thumbs, following me as I walked toward the edge of the Lookout. I didn't have time to force Goku to leave. I'd failed to return to Bulla and Bulma would be equally upset with me for missing the opera.

"He'll leave shortly," I said, answering the unspoken question. "Do me a favor, Dende, and keep this between us. You know how our little gaggle of friends is prone to worry."

The Namekian nodded. "Oh, yes, of course. Uh… well, have a nice flight, Gohan."

I saluted him with two fingers and leapt from the corner of Kami's Lookout, catching myself with my energy during the fall to spiral into the clouds. The sensation of the cool wind on my face was soothing, considering the hellfire I would face upon returning to Capsule Corp. I grimaced as the thought of Bulla's pout and her mother's scowl pervaded my thoughts.

My creeping demon agreed—it would be my toughest foe yet.


	17. Dix-Sept

**A/N:** This is kind of dialogue-heavy. Wah. Also, to the reviewer who called this a "dark satire", I think that's actually fairly accurate. I have a tendency to inject dark humor in these kinds of things to lighten things up and of course, none of these pairings make sense canon-wise. That's a pretty fair description. I'm happy all these awesome reviews keep coming in! This story seems to have attracted a more mature crowd.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Dix-Sept ::

Capsule Corp. was bathed in sunset hues that cast shadows across the meticulously manicured lawn. I put my hands in my pockets to maintain an air of equanimity, walking with purpose toward the woman sitting with a cigarette between her fingers on the porch. West City was uncharacteristically quiet around dusk, a time when most other places of business would have been bustling. Approaching Bulma became all the more intimidating without the din of commerce to cushion her irritation.

Her unreadable blue eyes flickered to me when I stopped before her, eyebrow cocked at the decomposing cherry at the end of her noxious addiction. She was hardly paying attention to it—the entire cigarette would be compromised if she failed to flick the ash.

Bulma drew from the filter. "I've been meaning to ask you something." The smoke issued back from her lipstick-stained mouth, curling into the crisp air.

"What is that?"

There was no strain of anger in her tone. Bulma was the type of woman who exploded when she was angry: it was a key ingredient in her successful and volatile relationship with Vegeta. They were both loose cannons waiting to fire upon whatever innocent soul happened to cross their poorly-defined boundaries. They did not conceal their frustrations like most people.

She stood, polishing off her smoke before dashing it on the porch under her toe. "You've been here for almost two months now. I take it that means you're happy?"

"Yes," I said, shrouding my intentions with a glib smile.

"That's good. I was hoping you'd stick around, but Chi-Chi was positive you would've left by now to get your own place. God knows you can afford it with the way Capsule Corp. pays you."

"Money is insignificant to me. I like to be around friends."

"That's what I assumed," Bulma murmured. She was standing on a step that made her eye-level with me rather than a bit below my height. "And it's nice having you here. Trunks is happy that I have company, even if he doesn't understand exactly what that entails, and Bulla's crazy about you. I never thought I'd see the day my daughter read Dante Alighieri instead of some teeny-bopper book."

My years desperately seeking Goku's approval and affection had taught me to interpret people's words differently than they were portrayed. I remained stoic before Bulma when she smiled at me disarmingly, struggling to utilize my talent. Of course she had an ulterior motive—any fool could discern that much. What exactly that motive was evaded me at the present time.

Neither of us spoke, leaving only the sound of the dying traffic.

Bulma brushed dust from my shoulder. "If you're going to be here for the foreseeable future, maybe we should consider making everything permanent."

The words didn't register in my mind for several seconds and hovered like a thick fog, obscuring rational processes.

I stepped back. "Pardon?"

"Well, things have been hard since Vegeta died," she continued, either oblivious to or ignoring my poorly concealed expression of revulsion. Her misty blue eyes looked past me toward Mt. Paozu with a distinct shimmer of longing. "We're both intelligent people, Gohan. Maybe it would be a good thing."

Another step back. My heart was pounding. "Bulma, as much as I enjoyed our night together, marriage is hardly an option when you consider our sheer age difference and—"

Her cold eyes roamed back to me, hardening with each inch. "My friends are starting to talk. If you aren't willing to do this, that's fine, but I can't let you keep living here like this. Word is starting to spread around Capsule Corp. and our employees are getting antsy." A reptilian smile twisted her lips. "You're my favorite out of all of them, but I need a reason to show that favoritism."

When she left, she stroked my cheek with the tips of her fingers.

I stood in solemn silence after her SUV had left down the street toward West City, grappling with her words. It had been a mistake to sleep with her in the first place but I had known that the moment I slipped between the sheets. I'd worried that she would evict me and my access to Bulla would likewise be cut off and I had stupidly done what she inferred.

Bulma's affection for my father was clear. I was the closest she would come to attaining him; a substitute for her feelings that would ever be returned. I'd brushed off the suggestions like I had regarding Goku and Videl, struggling to force my intuition away. The dark secrets my friends and family had hidden away so carefully were coming to light.

Downtrodden, I entered Capsule Corp., loosening my tie and weighing my options. If I didn't do what Bulma asked, I would inevitably lose my nymphet, who I had been vying for since the beginning. But the thought of marrying Bulma produced a clenching nausea that halted me on the stairs, clutching my head. My mother would certainly object to such an arrangement but my father would entertain the concept with gusto, grinning and congratulating us on the union.

Marrying Bulma had one glaring advantage: I could have more time alone with Bulla without rousing suspicion. Bulma may permit to adopt her and being her legal guardian, I would be able to exert further control over her everyday life. It would be a bittersweet victory that demanded sacrifice.

Before I could weigh all of my options fully, I needed a shower. I stripped free of my dirty clothes and added them to my basket that needed to be washed, which the maid would tend to in the morning. I pulled a robe around myself and walked down the dark hallway to the bathroom. Again, I was tricked by the poor acoustics in Capsule Corp., believing I was alone.

Soon after I had started cleaning my body there was a series of sharp knocks on the door that made my stomach turn itself in more violent knots. At first I ignored the sound, convinced it was Bulma come home to continue bargaining with me, but the knocking became more ferocious. I rinsed off what I could and stepped out with a towel around my waist and pulled open the door to send Bulma away.

My eyes dropped to see Bulla instead. Her hands were on her hips and she was scowling. Her piercing blue eyes shifted from mine down the length of my torso and for a moment, her scowl lightened. She was wearing her pajamas long before her bedtime was due.

"Yes?" I asked, dripping water on the floor.

Bulla reached out without hesitation to place her palm against my stomach, causing me to flinch in surprise. She pursed her lips. "I was coming to yell at you for never coming back last night but I guess that wouldn't be nice in light of your recent engagement, _dad_. How does it feel to be with a cougar?"

I breathed shallowly, nearly stunned to silence by her soft touch. "Your mother only asked me a simple question. I've been divorced for a month and a half, so I'm not marrying her right now."

"She'll throw you out. She did that to dad all the time." Bulla looked up at me, pressing her hand against my stomach with wide eyes. "You could grate cheese on these things! How many do you have, six?" Her fingers slid to the edge of my towel and she tugged on it, moving closer.

"Eight," I said, leaning on the door for support.

"Huh. I don't have any, but my belly is really flat. See?"

Bulla suddenly lifted her shirt up to the bottom of her breasts to show me the flat plane of her stomach, which was indeed barren of muscle. She was a half-Saiyan as well so her body did not retain fat well like a normal woman's and she could keep her toned body with hardly any effort. I stared blankly at her creamy white skin, wrestling with the impulse to touch her in the same way she had touched me.

I nodded, jaw clenched tightly. "Yes, very nice. If you'd excuse me, I need to return to my shower before your mother comes home and sees me in this… compromising position."

"Oh, mom's gonna be out all night. That's why I came here to see you."

The nymphet stepped forward and wedged her foot in the doorway to keep it open. I could only stand in feverish lust as she smiled at me and pulled her shirt over her head to reveal a bikini top that left little to the imagination. Her breasts were small and pert; far better than any woman could dream. She threw the shirt at me and I held it firmly to my chest while she shimmied free of her bottoms, clad in a matching bikini with a pair of male swim trunks hanging loosely around her waist.

She stepped out of her pants and the trunks and pushed them into my arms as well. I could finally see her without glancing away and pretending it didn't intrigue me. Her body was a golden proportion—a perfect hourglass wrought from marble, beautiful and untainted. My fingers twitched in misery. She was a cunning manipulator to her core.

"Daddy used to take baths with me," Bulla said, idly fingering the strap of her bright pink bottoms. "But he didn't really like it, so we stopped a long time ago. Can _we _take a bath together?"

"I… I…"

"Yay, I knew you'd say yes! Just put those on really quick." She put her lean fingers over her eyes, grinning excitedly. "I'm not gonna peek."

"B-Bulla, there are plenty of other b-bathrooms—" I stuttered.

"C'mon, don't be such a dweeb, Gohan. It's not like we're naked or anything. I never gave you your reward for punching Goten for me. Don't you want it?"

_Yes. I want you more than the air I breathe._

My mouth was dry but I relented to her demands and she clapped excitedly before shielding her eyes once more. Shivering with suspense, I pulled on the shorts and piled our clothing on the counter. Bulla peered from her fingers and darted inside with a happy squeal to change the water from a shower to a bath. I stood behind her in mystified silence and clutched the countertop until it bit my palms.

Was she… offering herself to me? It was a vague encounter and she was humming to herself while the tub filled with hot water, blanketing the bathroom in steam. My tongue felt swollen. Was that my prize? Was her small frame clambering on mine in the murky bathwater my gift for brutalizing my brother?

There was a splash and water spilled over the edge of the tub across the tile, seeping toward my toes while Bulla laughed and beamed radiant as sunshine. I'd imagined I would take control in our first encounter in the same way I normally did with women but she was a unique provocation. I would be tender with her like I never had been with another, and the sloshing water meant nothing.

She leaned on the edge of the tub and the floor grew closer to becoming a lake. "What're you doing all the way over there? The water is really hot so hurry up before it starts getting cold!"

Hesitant and no longer confident enough to feign nonchalance, I locked the door before stepping into the water with Bulla, sinking down into the warmth across from her. She turned and stretched her legs toward me to rest them on my thighs. Her cerulean irises were bright and alluring.

"You're quiet now," she noted.

"Yes, well, I don't make a habit of bathing with young girls."

"When you say it that way it sounds creepy." Her face sank into the water up to her nose and she began to blow bubbles. It was the only sound in the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes. "This will dash my dreams of marrying your mother."

"Don't even joke about that," Bulla said, scrunching her face. "It still freaks me out that my mom is still having sex even though she's so old and scraggly. Can't you get prettier girls than her?"

I rested my arms on either edge of the tub and leaned back against it, no longer under Bulla's tantalizing spell. She was regressing to her demure self. Casual, I regarded her imploring expression with a mild smirk. "Sex is a powerful weapon, Bulla. It has changed the course of history many times."

Her eyebrows furrowed together in consternation. "You're weird." Then I felt her toes pressing into my abdomen, running along each defined muscle. Her knee peaked from the surface of the water. "Are you made out of rocks or something?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart."

"I'm not really a 'sweetheart.'"

"You are to me," I said.

"If you rub my feet, I'll do something nice for you." She was nearly submerged now, her graceful right leg arching from the bath. Her toe gently trailed up the center of my front to stop in the center of my chest and she fluttered her eyes innocently. "Isn't my nail polish pretty? I change it every few days because the other girls copy me."

I nodded, grasping her right foot when it vanished under the water again. Her skin was soft and smooth—after all, she was Vegeta's princess. What surprise was she hiding from me? "Very pretty. Blue happens to be my favorite color. What's yours?"

"Mmm… pink." She suddenly twisted in place, giggling. "You're tickling me!"

My fingers kneaded her small foot in small ministrations. I grasped her ankle when she tried to pull away from me, tempted to stroke the length of her calf. "I would never do such a thing."

Water splashed onto the floor in torrents as Bulla writhed and her pealing laughter enticed me beyond comprehension. "_Gohan_, cut it out! I'm gonna spill water everywhere!" Her blue hair was slicked back against her head and I could see every hint of beautiful emotion crossing her face.

I wanted her with the most ferocious passion.

"What's my reward?" I crooned. My fingers slipped along her leg to hold her calf. I was getting closer.

Bulla bit her lower lip, eyes flickering down to her leg hidden beneath the water. She was a temptress wrapped in the cloak of an innocent nymphet. "Isn't touching me good enough? I mean, after all, you're a dirty old man who shouldn't have his hands on a young girl. Were you expecting more from me?"

"I _did _beat my own brother within an inch of his life for you." I tugged on her leg and she slid further toward the water, smirking. "Now that we're bathing I consider myself a clean old man."

"I'm still not because you've been distracting me grabbing at my feet."

"Maybe I should wash you," I said.

"Maybe you should," she agreed, gradually wrapping her thin legs about my waist. Her cheeks were rosy from the water and perhaps embarrassment. She screwed her eyes shut and laughed again. "This is getting so weird. I don't get how older people like this kind of thing—it just makes me feel nervous and sweaty. I'm not really good at this."

Now I was nearly on top of her, encouraged by her teasing. "I'm an accomplished teacher."

"See?! That's the kind of weird stuff I'm talking about!"

_You're perfect, my nymphet. Every facet—perfection._

"You'll feel more relaxed after I clean you," I said, reaching up hold her cheek in my palm. "Everything will fall into place and your concerns will melt away. You can trust me, Bulla."

She fell silent, staring at me with those wide blue eyes. "You're gonna kiss me, aren't you?"

"The thought crossed my mind."

"I'm still sick. What if you get sick, too?"

"I'm hardly ever ill," I said.

For the first time, Bulla became unreadable; an enigma. She blinked at me several times, eyelashes dripping with water from our bath. I glanced at her parted lips and licked my own.

"Then do it," she whispered.

It was finally time. My careful scheming had finally come to fruition and—

"_Bulla? Gohan? Are either of you home?"_

Swift as lightning, Bulla seized the back of my head to draw me forward and press her unbelievably silky lips to my own. It was a voice far worse than Bulma's but I was helpless under the frantic claws of my creeping demon. I knotted my fingers in Bulla's wet blue hair and push her mouth closer to mine, quickly deepening our kiss and slopping more water upon the floor.

And in another flash of motion I was shoved away, breathing heavily while the nymphet hopped out of the bathtub. She cast me a sideways glance over her shoulder paired with a taunting wink and trounced from the room with a trill that reverberated through my bones. Gone. Slipped through my grasp.

I leaned back and gazed at the ceiling while Trunks confronted her in the hallway, curious to know my whereabouts. Bulla only laughed and changed the subject to Paris. I could still taste her sweetness on my mouth as she led him back down the hallway to the stairs, away from me.

My eyes closed. I smiled.


	18. Dix-Huit

**A/N:** We're getting toward the end. I'm thinking there will be 23 chapters but that's just a rough estimate. Now I've gotta update my other stuff and start getting ideas together for the next story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Dix-Huit ::

One week later, I agreed to marry Bulma.

It had taken time for me to discern the best course of action given the circumstances and I had swayed in the direction of rejecting her proposal several times. However, losing access to Bulla was no longer feasible. She had bewitched me, body and soul, and even I could suffer through a contrived union if it meant legal custody to control her further. Bulla would not take a step without my knowing and none would question me. Bulma was delighted with what she perceived as a paternal attitude.

Paperwork was signed but no ceremony took place. We kept our matrimony private to our families and Bulma only revealed it to her chattering gaggle of friends, who examined her ring with the hawkishness of a jeweler. I avoided both them and my new wife as often as possible, excusing myself with duplicitous reasons and cursing my obsession with the nymphet. She had led me down the path to ruin.

The first snowfall of the year arrived on November 12th, exactly three months since I had moved in to Capsule Corp. with Bulma. My wife was of course shopping with her fellow harpies which left me with a peaceful evening alone, still ruminating over my encounter with Bulla in the bathtub. She had returned to hiding from me yet again and no matter how many times I attempted to catch her, she slipped through my fingers like sand. My patience was wearing thin.

On that snowy afternoon, fate turned decisively in my favor.

A fire was crackling in the den where I now spent most of my time poring over Capsule Corp.'s finances like I had before the end of my first marriage. It was still rather cold and I glanced up irately from my work at the icy drifts floating elegantly past the window that would gather into banks and impede my vehicle. Winter was my least favorite season and I liked to pretend it didn't exist at all.

Mercifully, the weather was too severe for my little wife to return home—she sent me a short, terse text message informing me of such. I wished her a good evening and safe trip the next morning as my thoughts instantly darkened, twisting toward my new daughter sleeping a few rooms away.

I glanced at my watch. It was only eight o'clock and I had instructed her to be home on time. Bulla had slipped into her role quite nicely, folding her arms and sticking her tongue out when I gave her a stricter curfew than her mother set. She was always dashing about the house in her socks, sliding across the hardwood floors and talking a mile a minute to her friends on the phone.

Vegeta certainly punished his children for their misdeeds. Trunks had complained to Goten many times when they were children and I listened offhandedly, hardly tuning in to their conversation. I had stepped into Vegeta's shoes in a way. It was my duty to ensure his daughter understood her place. I wouldn't hurt her, of course… I would amorously _teach _her where exactly the boundaries lay.

Laden with sinister intent, I rose from my desk and took off my glasses to place them gently upon the solid mahogany. I ran a hand through my hair and turned my neck several times to relieve the tension before exiting the room and strolling casually toward Bulla's. My hands sank into my pockets. It was better that she didn't suspect anything. If I approached her too brashly, she would flee like a frightened deer and be forever lost. She was precious and delicate.

The door did not open after I tapped it with the shiny leather shoe several times but I could hear the laughter of a sitcom on her television. The page of a magazine flipped and Bulla giggled to herself. My expression soured and I briefly removed a hand from my pocket to twist the handle, quickly returning my digits and nudging inside my nymphet's colorful bedroom. It smelled of nail enamel.

Bulla was laying stomach-down on her neon pink bedsheets, which still hadn't been made. Her blue hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and her lean, pale legs were wrapped together at the ankle. She blew a green bubble that popped and drew it back inside her tempting lips. My eyes raked hungrily across her blue spotted nightshirt that touched the middle of her thighs, and settled upon the arch of her spine.

"I don't think I told you to come in," she said without looking up.

"I don't need permission."

"You're awfully cocky now that you're mom's new boytoy." Sharp cerulean eyes were suddenly shredding through me, narrowed and dangerous. "Take off your shoes! I just cleaned in here!"

I did as I was told, still hovering near the entrance of her bedroom. "It was necessary, Bulla. If I didn't do what your mother wanted, I wouldn't have been able to live here any longer and perhaps would have lost my job. That isn't what you wanted, correct?"

She shrugged. "Whatever."

My presence was being met with strong opposition. I shut her door and sat on the bed beside her feet, only succeeding in eliciting another agitated glare from the nymphet. She was hostile. Was she jealous I had married her mother, or perhaps upset that I had taken her father's role?

Bulla suddenly threw her magazine on the floor and rolled over to sit up at the front of her bed, tugging the edge of her nightshirt over her knees. "Quit looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" I queried. "I'm only trying to be friendly."

"You're a freak."

The bed creaked when I shifted toward her. It wouldn't be practical to take her on such a noisy piece of furniture, considering the amount of writhing she would be doing. I grasped the sheets tightly in my fists and struggled to contain my thoughts that were rapidly unraveling, tormenting me with lustful projections. If only she wasn't stubborn like her godforsaken mother.

"I'm getting the distinct feeling that you resent me." I sat cross-legged on her bed with my hands draped in my lap, screaming with frustration inside but smiling warmly.

She smacked her gum obnoxiously. "Why would you say that, _daddy_?"

"Ha ha, very funny. I had to marry your mother, Bulla, or I would have had to leave Capsule Corp. forever. Situations between adults can be very… complicated, sometimes."

"I'm not retarded. You don't need to repeat the same stupid excuse a hundred times." Bulla began texting on her cell phone, illuminated by the glowing screen. "My friends are sleeping over tonight since mom isn't home to complain about it. You're not gonna tell on me, right?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't keep secrets from my wife."

Her fingers stopped moving. I reached forward to touch her foot gently and her toes curled. She began to tremble ever so slightly.

"Unless you can change my mind," I added.

There was silence, then: "You can't tell me what to do. You're not my father."

Bulla lashed out to kick me but I caught both of her ankles in mid-swing and pinned them down to keep her sparkly purple toes from inconveniencing me. She panted furiously instead of screaming as I restrained her with my weight, soon lying on top of her shivering body like I had always dreamed. Her teeth were bared at me like a feral cat and her lustrous blue hair had been torn free of the rubber band, framing her red-flushed face. I'd never seen bluer eyes.

I held her palms down firmly, relishing in the sensation of her soft frame pressing to mine. "You're right, Bulla. I'm not your father."

When I tried to kiss her she pulled one hand free and placed her index finger to my lips, smiling broadly. My creeping demon was gnashing his teeth and I was overcome by my desire, resulting in wrapping my lips around her digit and sucking desperately, vying for any piece of her. She blinked in surprise and burst into laughter, contorting against me in alluring ways.

"What're you gonna do, eat me?" Her finger popped free of my mouth and she wiped off my saliva, sticking out her tongue in feigned revulsion.

"If that's a request, I would be happy to."

Bulla suddenly pressed her palm to my face and I could only see her through the slivers between fingers. Another small giggle. "You're really heavy, Mister Eight-Pack."

It was her demented form of torture. She hid behind her smiles and extroverted personality, but inside, she was perhaps more twisted than even her mother. It didn't matter in the slightest which side of Bulla decided to open her legs to me. One of them needed to relinquish their host.

I pulled Bulla's hand away and tugged on my tie, maddened with lust, trying to convince my clashing morality that I was fully deserving of taking what I wanted from her. But I could not. My tie hung loose about my neck and I held the nymphet firmly to the ruffled sheets while she gazed at me in wonder, blue eyes wide and shining. I could not bring myself to harm her.

Oh, how I wished I could.

I closed my eyes and grinded my teeth together. If I could not break through my pesky sentimentality, I would surely never have Bulla the way I wished. She would constantly evade me.

"You're also really crazy," she said.

"You'll understand one day."

"Probably not." Her fingers clasped over the tops of my palms. "You can kiss me, if you want. I still kind of owe you for beating up Goten, right? And I guess I'm gonna have to do something else so you'll let my friends stay the night… you're awfully demanding, _daddy_."

My arms weakened and I slumped down, burying my face in her neck. She smelled like cucumber and her skin was warm. She would be even warmer inside. "I wish you would stop calling me that."

"I wish you hadn't married my mom, but we can't all get what we want. Are you gonna get this over with or what? I want my friends to get here as soon as possible."

"I had to marry your mother," I mumbled into her soft flesh.

"Mom should've only ever been married to dad."

"She's lonely, Bulla. Your father was very important to her."

Wetness slid down my cheek and I heard a sniffle. "Not important enough."

Emotions were foreign to me. I could comprehend them like any other person, but I did not feel their full depth to the intensity a full human could. There were more pressing matters in my life: arduous battles to the death, or long nights spent in my mother's lap while she sobbed for my father. Recently, my education had overwhelmed me and I lost interest in feeling beyond the boundaries of desire. Capsule Corp. was the most important facet of my life after graduation.

Bulla wriggled her hands free of my grasp and I felt them slip between us until they found my belt. She fumbled with it, more tears sliding down her cheeks, and I hesitantly kissed her neck as encouragement. Was it finally time? Had my careful machinations worked as intended after three long months?

I held the back of her head gently; she was porcelain, beautiful and fragile and valuable, bathed in blue and white tones. My lips rolled her skin between my teeth and I rested my weight on one arm to grant her better access to my belt that tinkered lightly with the sound of metal as it came apart. She unbuttoned my pants without pausing like I had expected. Inside, I was churning with excitement.

"I knew you'd want me to sit on your lap," the nymphet said tonelessly, "but this is what you're really thinking about." She pulled my pants over my hips and pushed on my shoulders to force me away from her neck, leaving us nose-to-nose. Her eyes were distant and red from tears. "So go ahead."

It stunned me. Bulla had been perfectly willing only a few minutes prior but had turned into a sobbing mess, begging me to hurry. Mentioning Vegeta had been a poor decision on my part.

I swallowed. "Ah… come to think of it, I have to paperwork to review."

My body was trembling with frustration. I wanted her. No, I _needed _her, but not as a victim. How I wished I had the ice in my heart to ignore her tears like I accomplished with Videl, or with Erasa. My creeping demon was shrieking in agony as I returned to sitting across from Bulla on the bed and notched my belt, wincing at each furious rip the demon's claws slashed through my insides.

Bulla sat up, cocking her head innocently. "Well can my friends still come over? We won't bother you." A malicious smile crossed her mouth, curving her tear-stained cheeks. "Much."

"Sure," I said, "whatever you want. Just keep the pandemonium to a minimum, please."

I stood and raked a hand through my hair and the nymphet rose also, happily throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. Still wracked with lust, I quickly pulled away and held her by the shoulders, my head drooping pitifully. She had complete and utter power over me. When had I become the prey?

"I'll come see you later, daddy," she purred. "My friends all want to meet you."

"For the love of god, Bulla, _stop calling me that_."

"Uh-uh, not unless you divorce mom." She took my hands off her shoulders and pushed them against her rather flat breasts, smiling at my bewilderment. "I'm gonna take you away from her, I think. She's always looking down on me 'cause I'm not smart like Trunks. Now she's trying to forget about daddy by marrying you, and I'll never let that happen. She'll remember him forever."

"You're going to be the death of me," I whispered, still hunched over.

Bulla batted her eyelashes. "I'm just gonna make you a little bit crazier."

The doorbell rang and I straightened immediately, awkwardly stuffing my hands in my pockets while Bulla dashed out of her bedroom screeching with glee. There were squeals of delight in the foyer and I retired to my den to continue examining charts and graphs, thoroughly agitated. I'd imagined the entire time that I had the upper hand but Bulla certainly took after her mother.

I collapsed in my chair and held my head in my hands. My creeping demon was howling.


	19. Dix-Neuf

**A/N:** I'm not going to lie, I had some major moral complications with writing this. Fiction is fiction, however, so I just kept reminding myself of that fact and pushed through. That said, please tell me if you think it's over the top and needs to be removed. I don't want to be banned. This story doesn't have anywhere else to go except its conclusion in a very short period of time, which is why it's so short. :( I suppose I could discuss an affair between the two of them when Bulla is older, but that seems repetitive and stale.

I was _really _surprised Trunks/Pan didn't get many votes. I thought that would win over another Goku story but I'm doubting my frequent readers' passion for our favorite hero. After my next Goku/OC, which I have a decent concept for, I'm going for Trunks/Pan. M. Trunks is amazing and not the spoiled little shit that regular Trunks is, and Pan is Pan. Big age difference = tons of drama and darkfic-ishness. Or dark satire; whatever. I had a good idea for M. Trunks/OC as well and there aren't many of them. BASICALLY, I'VE GOT A LOT OF IDEAS AND NEED TO FINISH WHAT I HAVE OPEN.

**Warnings:** Lemon.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Dix-Neuf ::

The sound of the squealing and giggling nymphets was noticeable even above Beethoven's 5th Symphony, the musical number I relied upon when my thoughts became too overwhelming. I kept my eyes closed and my lips pressed firmly together, leaning back in my chair with my hands clasped over my stomach. There were four of them including Bulla lounging about in the basement playing their obscene music and shrieking with excitement at every utterance.

It was unmitigated abuse. She had wiled me to restrain her to the bed and demand a sacrifice in return for her little sleepover, but failed to deliver a thing. I gritted my teeth together. Her tears had driven me away and she was now privy to a weakness I was paradoxically proud and resentful of. Three arduous months of careful planning had ultimately led me to nowhere of value—I was at square one.

The door opened. "…And this is the guy I was telling you about."

I lazily glanced to the door and suddenly became alert at the sight of the gaggle of nymphets standing in a cluster, holding on to one another and regarding me with wide eyes. Bulla stood before them with her hands clasped behind her back and a broad smile stretched across her face. I quickly turned the music off and rose from my chair to nod politely to them, straightening my tie in the process.

Each sported a different hair color: fiery red, chestnut brown, and a brilliant blonde. They were small in stature like Bulla but none of them had her perfect proportions. The blonde was a bit overweight, the brunette was gangly, and the redhead appeared muscular. They were a varied bunch, each wearing different sleeping shirts with bright, floral patterns and shuffling their nervous feet in mismatched socks. The brunette was wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, blinking owlishly at me.

Bulla drew her hand through the air like a game show host's assistant revealing a prize. "Gohan, these are my friends from school. Craya is the blonde one, Scissa is the one with the red hair, and Bindi has the brown hair. They all kept asking me to come up here and introduce you to them so I did!"

"You didn't say your dad was this cute," Craya whispered urgently.

"Do the thing you promised," said Scissa. "Bet you were lying and he won't let you!"

"Uh huh he will!" Bulla said.

I felt my pulse plummet, ice creeping through my bones. Their wide eyes suddenly felt accusatory and I could only watch in mesmerized horror as my nymphet stuck out her tongue at her friends and skipped to me, promptly reaching her hand into my left pocket and withdrawing my car keys. She swung them around her fingertip and winked conspiratorially.

"Just because you have the keys doesn't mean he lets you drive," Scissa said in a snarky tone.

Bulla puffed up indignantly and moved toward her friends but I grabbed the back of her neck to hold her in place and plucked my keys from her fingers. Craya and Scissa giggled to one another and Bindi remained behind them, watching with rapt attention as I tucked my keys inside my jacket.

She was toying with me; proving she held the power in our fumbling relationship. Cold fear was still chilling me to the core and Bulla didn't seem perturbed by my tight hold upon her. She folded her arms angrily and bowed her head to hide her shame from the others. Were they all truly clueless or had the group of nymphets banded together to become my undoing?

"It's time for bed, girls," I said, smiling plainly. "Bulla and I need to discuss the ramifications of lying and attempting to steal my car keys from my pocket. I can assure you, she has never driven my vehicle."

"I knew it!" Scissa crowed.

They all left together but the brunette hung behind for several moments, eyeing me with restrained suspicion until I politely asked her to leave. She hesitated before dashing down the stairs after her friends and soon after the basement door slammed shut, leaving Bulla and I alone again. Only a frail heartbeat of peace passed between my nymphet and I in the pervasive silence.

She struggled in my grasp almost immediately and I walked forward, holding her tightly until I could shut the door to the den and press her against it, neatly turning the lock. Small hands pushed on my chest and her eyes filled with tears but I refused to be fooled by the same trick twice in one evening. I used her chin to hold her head against the wall, forcing her steely blue eyes to meet mine.

Before she could speak and spew more manipulative jargon, I kissed her ardently and kept her chin firmly between my fingers when she attempted to twist away from me in protest. Her mouth tasted of some variety of sweet candy and I moved deeper in spite of her refusal to cooperate. Bulla whined and still pushed against my chest, only being difficult for the sake of irritating me, and my available hand slipped underneath her nightshirt to hang precariously by the fingertips from her panties.

I hesitated and rubbed the thin fabric in deep thought. It wasn't entirely prudent to sleep with my nymphet when there was a large, loud group of them asleep in the basement. If one of them wandered upstairs to seek out Bulla or I, that would put me in a very compromising position. The brown-haired girl seemed particularly dubious in comparison to her two giggling cohorts.

Bulla broke our kiss, lips still swollen and glistening with saliva. "Y'know, mom only married you because she's gaga over your dad. I've been reading her diary ever since I was eight and a lot of it talks about Goku and how she felt bad marrying my dad when she didn't really even like him. You're the next best thing to him in _her _eyes, but I actually like you a lot. So why are you gonna stay married to her?"

"I knew that," I muttered. "Not that I understand it. And I've told you several times now, Bulla—if I leave your mother or don't do what she asks, I will not be welcome in Capsule Corp. anymore. It's a necessary evil."

"Adults are stupid," she said.

"It's time for bed."

I stepped back from Bulla to turn off the lights in the den and she took my hand, leading me down the dark hallway past my bedroom to hers. The door closed with a resounding click and I moved to turn on the light but she wouldn't allow me to, and instead pulled me into the shadowy recesses of her bedroom. I pulled off my shoes while her small hands worked to unbuckle my belt. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, stricken with excitement as my belt hissed from its loops.

Azure irises pierced me through the gloom. "What do you want from me, anyway?" Her fingers tugged my shirt free from my pants and roamed along my stomach.

My pesky tie joined my belt on the carpet, and my nagging fear began to trickle away. "Everything."

"Oh. I thought so."

We made it to her small, creaky bed and the rest of my clothes were cast haphazardly to the floor until I was lying naked underneath the sheets beside my nymphet who was still wearing her nightshirt and underwear. She stared at me, unblinking eyes riddled with fear and inquisitiveness. The house was deathly quiet—I assumed the other girls had long drifted off to sleep in the basement.

Bulla bit her lower lip. "Does it hurt?"

"No," I lied.

"Liar."

I placed my hand on the arch of her hip and gently pulled down one side of her panties. "It won't hurt one bit if you do what I tell you."

"Well it always sounds like mom is in pain when you two are doing it."

"You'll understand soon," I crooned, shivering as I slid her underwear down to her knees.

"I'm leaving my shirt on," she said. "I don't want you to look at me."

"If you insist."

Bulla was lying beneath me moments later with her hair splayed across her pillows like a cyan halo. Her smooth thighs felt foreign against my hands that were still calloused from years of battles.

I kissed her neck tenderly and tentatively explored the soft curls between her legs, taking care to avoid penetrating her with my finger too early on. She shifted her hips and whined each time I drew my thumb through her mound and I would pause in nibbling her flesh to shush her. Time was the least of my concerns. If I obeyed my instinct and moved too quickly, she would never come back to me.

Soon the nymphet's body became languid and I slickened my middle finger with saliva before gently easing it inside of her, marveling at how tight and resistant her insides were. She whimpered, "Ow!" and promptly grasped my bicep as I stroked her in a slow motion. Gradually, her grasp weakened and she became supple again, watching me through half-lidded eyes that fluttered from each caress. My creeping demon thrashed wildly and I gnashed my teeth together.

_Careful, careful. You can't frighten her away._

But I was irrational from lechery; pushed and pulled to and from the brink of my insanity for too many months with no comparable release. I withdrew my finger and sucked her essence from it, my entire body pulsing with anticipation. Bulla's eyes widened as I tilted her hips toward mine and began to prod her entrance with poorly constrained movements that nearly resulted in our bodies sinking together violently. I buried my face in her neck, helplessly grinding against her.

Bulla's hands scrambled across my back, trying to anchor her body in response to my increasingly aggressive thrusts. "F-fine, you win! You can stay married to mom and I won't complain again!"

"Shhhh," I whispered, lazily covering her mouth with a hand, "I need you to _relax_."

The only other female whose innocence I had taken was my wife's, and I found her purity to be questionable. Bulla's body was impossibly small and narrow; quite different from Bulma's and proportional to Videl's. I panted into Bulla's collarbone and she shrieked into my palm with each inch of obstinate flesh I reaped, twisting madly underneath me and dragging her pretty blue nails across my back. Her body was my Elysium and the warmth nestled between her legs was the Elysian Fields.

I mumbled a mendacious apology when tears streamed down her cheeks but my addled thoughts did not consider being any gentler. Her grip on my back weakened after I had sufficiently stretched her, yet she was still almost entirely absent, scarcely uttering a sound. Convinced she would not make any incriminating noises, I moved my hand from her mouth to grasp a fistful of her hair and sealed her lips in a passionate kiss meant to incite vigor to her veins. She sniffled.

"Are you in pain?" I asked, resting my forehead on hers. She was sweating.

"…N-No."

My eyes rolled back with each polite thrust. "Then may I inquire as to why you've become quiet?"

Bulla's lower lip quivered and she suddenly pulled me close so I was no longer faced with her tears. So she _did _know my weakness. "This is wrong. I'm a bad person."

The bed creaked from the pressure of my short, restrained movements. "Bulla, this is hardly the time for you…" I reached past her bunched nightshirt to feel her forming breasts. "…For you to have a moral crisis. You have nothing to… concern yourself with. I do. If this feels good, enjoy it."

"O… okay."

The nymphet's lean legs wrapped around my waist, trembling but eager, and her arms loosely wound about my neck. Tantalizing mewls left her rather than squeals of displeasure and I rocked against her until she began to move her body in response to mine, seeking her own apex. The bed was creaking and I was almost certain I heard murmurs from the kitchen but I was far too involved with Bulla to care.

I impatiently tore open her nightshirt to fondle her breasts and feel them in my mouth, increasing the volume of her moans. She quieted down when I placed my index finger to her lips, still idly kissing her breasts and reveling in the wet sound of our bodies molding together. She was as perfect as I had imagined and not a centimeter of her body failed to meet my expectations. The three endless months of torture had been well worth it and my years married to Bulma would be as well.

I watched raptly as Bulla came to her completion, blinking in surprise when the euphoria swept through her body, leaving her only capable of whimpering my name. Her muscles contracted and pulled on me until I finished inside of her with my eyes riveted on her flushed, pink face; like heated porcelain. It was an ill-judged decision on my part but I couldn't resist feeling my seed filling her, a tribute to my alien half that lived to possess and dominate.

Bulla would be mine, regardless of her age or marital status. I'd imagined it was her age I had come to love first but as I watched her face brighten with bliss, an emotion brought about by my own doing, I pondered whether or not my feelings would change as her body did. I glanced down at her small breasts that were littered with love bites and the curve of her clavicle. Would she always appeal to me?

Her bright blue eyes fell upon me, shimmering with joy. "Gee, if I knew it would feel _that _good I would've let you do it a long time ago!" She squirmed away from me and stumbled to her feet, clutching her head. "That was… that was… what happened at the end?!"

I stood, also precariously tipsy from my recent orgasm and exhausted enough to collapse on the floor. "An orgasm," I said plainly, pulling on my boxers.

"I mean, I've seen it in movies and read about it," Bulla prattled without really listening to my reply, "but I didn't think it felt that good. No wonder people wanna have sex all the time. Can we do it again tonight? Please? I'll make my friends go home so they don't bother us."

"As much as I'd like to say yes, my body needs an hour to recuperate and you'll be fast asleep by then." I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled, admiring her naked body. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll wait here for you to come back and we can talk about it."

"Okay!" she chirped. "You better not fall asleep while I'm gone, old man."

The nymphet hurriedly collected clean pajamas for bed and raced out of the room to the bathroom, slamming the door shut moments later. I stood quietly for several moments with my hands on my hips before returning to the bed, sitting with my head in my hands and staring at the floor. Our clothes were strewn about in patterns that revealed who the aggressor was in our rendezvous.

And in an ultimate act of stupidity, I crawled beneath Bulla's sheets and drifted off to sleep.


	20. Vingt

**A/N:** Shorter than the last one but you guys wanted more stuff before the end, so I'm gonna fill it up with more stuff! Thank you for all the encouraging reviews in regards to the last chapter. Shockingly, I didn't get a single flicker of a flame. But I probably will step away from Trunks/Pan for now because I have a kind of disturbing amount of pedophile-esque stories on here now. You can probably expect one in... March or April next year.

BUT, I do need to warn everyone that next year will be slower. I'm taking all science classes in college now and I have to get a B in one to get into the program I want, so that does take precedence over this. I'm hoping to conclude this particular story by December and begin work on the next soon after, and conclude "My Own Being" by January. I'm doing the Goku/OC first because that won in the poll but then I'm going to move on to Trunks/Pan and probably M. Trunks/OC. I love Goku dearly but he has 12 stories!

Also considering renaming this "Dragon Ball Drama" because it's just becoming a huge soap opera.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Vingt ::

"Uh… Gohan, what're you doing in Bulla's bed?"

Disoriented, I opened my eyes to see the hazy outline of my nymphet's ceiling, reaching to her bright pink walls covered in posters of boy bands and carefully colored pictures. Her cucumber scent still lingered in the air but I could not feel her warm, soft presence beside me underneath the sheets. She had vanished like a wisp of a dream and abandoned me to my own moral battles that were silently burning to the surface. I had done the unforgivable.

Something prodded my arm. "Ah… hey, look, I just wanted to tell you—"

I jolted up in bed at the sight of Goku standing beside me and he quickly jammed his hands into his pockets, startled by my reaction as severely as I was by his presence in Bulla's bedroom. He blinked stupidly at me while I stared back at him, conjuring up a legitimate excuse. She was ill? No, no, that wouldn't explain why I was half-naked. Perhaps she had seduced me, or…

The bedroom door opened with a soft groan and Bulla appeared, wearing my white shirt as a dress, with the buttons connecting in all different places. Her hair was draped gracefully across her collarbone in a low ponytail that drew my attention to some very conspicuous love bites tainting her snowy skin. She idly skipped up to my father and leaned her head on him with an arm casually on her hip. To my relief, she was smiling sunnily in my direction without a trace of fear.

"Your dad popped up all of a sudden like an hour ago," she said, already chewing on gum in the wee hours of the morning. She looked up at my father and squinted. "He wanted to wake you up but I thought you looked cuter asleep, so I made him promise not to. Guess he's a dirty liar like you."

"Has your mother come home?" I asked urgently.

"Are you kidding? There's like ten feet of snow outside." Bulla shrugged off of Goku and sat on the bed beside me, nuzzling into my arm in a manner that felt sarcastic. "She already called and said she's gonna come home tomorrow instead, and that I should have you call her. But I think I want to have you all to myself today and we can do even more fun stuff than last night."

Goku took a step back. "But… but Gohan, Bulla is only fourteen. You didn't…"

"Yes, and your little minx is sixteen," I snapped.

"But Bulla is Vegeta's daughter. Why would you do that to Vegeta's daughter?"

"I told him earlier we had sex and he didn't believe me," Bulla said indifferently. She crawled behind me to droop herself over my back, tying her arms neatly in front of my chest and resting her chin upon my shoulder. Her soft form pressed against me, already tempting my desire.

My father's expression twisted into rage, something I wasn't used to witnessing. "Y-You can't do that to Vegeta's daughter! She's off-limits!"

I could've snarled at him but Bulla's humming in my ear had a calming effect. Instead, I settled for offering him a cold glare. "Well, considering Vegeta isn't around anymore to express his feelings on the subject, I would say that offers me absolute possession of his daughter. _You _have no say in the matter, Goku. Now tell me what is important enough to barge into my home."

Bulla suddenly perked up and kissed my cheek with a resounding smack. "I totally forgot to tell my new grandpa that he's my new grandpa!"

In a shocking betrayal of his inherent idiocy, Goku actually comprehended and digested Bulla's words. I'd decided his eyes couldn't grow any larger until they fell upon the wedding band circling my left ring finger. He stepped back again, shaking his head while Bulla rolled off the bed to dance around, enthusiastically singing "The Wedding March" without a care in the world.

"Yes, Bulma and I are married," I said, rising from the bed to procure my clothing from the floor. My pulse was racing but I remained nonchalant and cocked an eyebrow at Goku. "Does that affect you in any particular way, or are you upset about something else?"

My father's dumbfounded eyes moved to Bulla's prancing form that was poorly concealed by my shirt. "Why did you marry Bulma if you were going to do things with her daughter?"

Bulla stopped moving and her hand shot in the air like she was in school answering a question. She waved it wildly back and forth. "Ooo, ooo, I know, I know!" She pointed to herself proudly, truly blossoming in the confusion. "Gohan married mom because he wanted to have sex with me, and he couldn't really do that if she threw him out. But mom only married Gohan because she's in love with _you _but you're still married to that old lady so you're off the market."

"With me?!" Goku spluttered, jerking back like he'd been burned.

"Yes, yes, it surprises us all," I said acidly as I pulled on my pants. "What did you come here to tell me, Goku? Hurry up; I'm sure Bulla's friends are getting hungry and impatient."

"Already fed 'em," Bulla drawled. "I told them all the noise was your girlfriend, too. You're welcome, daddy."

"Bulma is in love with _me_?! No way! She married Vegeta and they had two kids, so why would she be in love with me?" My father held his head, about ready to explode.

My nymphet huffed irately. "Geez, wasn't it obvious? You really are dumb, grandpa."

"Don't call him that," I rebuked, collecting my belt and jacket.

"Awww, why not? I like giving everybody their new names."

Goku ruffled his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "Whatever, none of that matters right now. We made Goten and Valese leave but he came back a few days ago because she got pregnant and they were living on the street in the cold. I tried to tell Chi-Chi they shouldn't but she got really mad."

Furious, I rounded on Goku and was only stopped by Bulla's small hands on my chest. My insides were blistering with rage—how could he have allowed such a thing to happen? Not only would the hapless human suffer the consequences, but my pitiful brother would bring a shrieking piece of himself into the world that would continue to plague our family for years to come. I was a fool to trust Goku.

"Did you do any other stupid things during the month we didn't speak?" I hissed.

He dropped his head, fiddling with his sash. It was a bad omen.

"Well… I might have accidentally put a baby in Videl."

Bulla burst out laughing and slumped against me, reduced to tears within a fraction of a second. I could only groan in response to my father's mildly embarrassed frown; he looked like a child who had spilled juice on the new carpet. Of course he had impregnated a sixteen year old girl at the ripe old age of 55. It was his crowning achievement of shortsightedness and a testament to his lack of self-control. There was a human living in the city carrying the third half-Saiyan offspring of Goku Son.

I rubbed my temples, dangerously close to losing control of my energy. "Are you positive it belongs to you? Videl is young and impetuous. We can't jump to any conclusions without DNA testing."

My father shifted uncomfortably. "I'm around her a lot so I'm pretty sure it's mine. I didn't mean to."

The nymphet standing before me patted my chest and waved her hand dismissively. "This should be a TV show. I'm gonna go hang out with my friends while you two figure out what's gonna happen with my new aunt who I don't even know yet." She wiped tears from her eyes and left the room, snickering.

"Have you suggested she have an abortion?" I asked. "There are several clinics around West City."

"I'm not gonna make her kill a baby." My father leaned against Bulla's dresser, grimacing. "She knows I'm married so I can't really be there and wanted me to tell you she'll tell the police if we don't figure something out. I don't know what we're gonna do."

"Goku, I am not the one who impregnated a 16 year old runaway," I said brusquely. "This is strictly your problem, and you will solve it with her while keeping my name very far away."

"Well we were hoping you could marry her. She's afraid to be alone and—"

This time I was positive my rage would break.

I advanced toward my father and came close enough to his face that I could read the fear in his dark irises, nearly indistinguishable from his pupils. "I am not the prized stud in our complicated affairs. I have been forced to marry my 60 year old substitute aunt who is merely projecting her unhealthy obsession with you onto me. I have watched my mother stand idly by while my brother drunkenly slapped a human from room to room and dragged her through the mud.

"_This_… this is where I stop the insanity. You have become a father for the third time, Goku." I slapped him caustically on the arm. "Perhaps you should consider involving yourself this time around."

"Gohan, please!" he begged as I walked away. "Chi-Chi is gonna kill me if she finds out!"

I slammed the bedroom door shut and heard him curse loudly before the familiar sound of instant transmission signaled he had left. It was satisfying to know karma was devouring Goku alive.

A smorgasbord of nymphets was awaiting me in the kitchen, all gathered around the island giggling to one another over their cell phones. My Bulla was radiant in the early morning light, her lean legs emerging at mid-thigh from my shirt, and she brightened upon seeing me on the stairs. She leapt from her seat as if we hadn't seen one another in years and hugged me tightly around the waist. I stumbled back, surprised by her forcefulness, and her friends found our encounter amusing.

Bulla led me to the kitchen and pushed me in the chair beside the brunette. I watched rapturously as she began to make breakfast and lackadaisically pondered how attached she had become to me after just one night. The other nymphets ogled me, asking who my woman friend was and how long we had been together while Bulla smiled to herself and prepared the food. I'd expected her to eagerly gush the details to her friends and divulge our secret romance but she carried herself with grace beyond her age.

They returned to discussing young men while I ate and Bulla sat in the chair on my opposite side to place her small palm on my thigh. I rubbed the back of my head, cursing my inherited idiosyncrasy all the while Bulla's fingers blithely crept along my leg. The nymphet sitting beside me immediately reacted to my changed posture and her ubiquitous eyes flickered down moments after I shooed Bulla away.

"So where did you go last night, Bulla?" Bindi asked casually. "You were gone the whole time your stepdad was with his girlfriend."

Bulla didn't miss a beat. She picked up a piece of bacon from my plate and leveled her gaze with her friend's. "I went out for a walk, obviously. All of you losers fell asleep and I didn't want to listen to my dad having sex—ew—so I went out for a stroll. It was fun being in the snow." She bit off a piece of bacon and chewed offhandedly. "Why? Somethin' you wanted to say?"

The other girl smiled tightly. "Guess not."

The tension was palpable. Bulla suddenly volunteered me to become their palette for their new nail enamels and they all darted downstairs to collect their varnish, shrieking with excitement. Bindi remained at the island to watch me eat and we did not look away from one another until her friends returned. She excused herself to the bathroom as Bulla sat beside me once again.

My nymphet leaned close to me, voice obscured by the chattering of her friends. "Bindi is a total dweeb sometimes. Don't worry, I've got plenty of dirt on her. She won't say anything."

I nodded and winced when my hands were splayed on the countertop. Disagreeable nymphets were far more dangerous than any adult could ever wish to be.


	21. Vingt Et Un

**A/N:** Look at you guys getting all this filler! I started my new story if anyone wants to check it out.

**Warnings:** Sexual content throughout.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

**-MalRev**

**Rust & Stardust**

:: Vingt Et Un ::

"I'm going to be home tomorrow afternoon. Thankfully Elesa doesn't mind me staying for a while since her husband is out of town. This snow is becoming such a bother and I'm beginning to really miss you. How have you been doing with Bulla, darling? I hope she isn't too much of a bother."

The phone nearly slipped from my trembling fingers. "Ah… she's great. I uh, helped her with… with her math homework earlier."

My wife laughed. "You sound like you're out of breath. Something wrong?"

Sweet, soft lips were wrapped around me. My fingers were entangled in Bulla's silky blue hair, gently encouraging her mouth to pull me deeper toward the back of her throat. She giggled and batted her eyelashes at me and those azure eyes stole my breath in an awkward cough. I'd underestimated her. She was dangerously passionate, capturing my attention in the most inconvenient situations.

My hazy eyes traveled across the smooth arch of Bulla's spine curved between my calves. "No… no, nothing is wrong. Take your time… Bulma. I'll be eagerly waiting for you to come home."

"Alright. I love you, Gohan."

"I love you, too."

The phone snapped shut and I tossed it carelessly aside to knot all of my fingers in my nymphet's hair, groaning gutturally in the empty house. We were in her bedroom again, my favorite location for our trysts, naked together and wrapped in her pink sheets. A month had passed since our first heavenly encounter and Bulma had become scarce due to the inclement weather. Bulla devoted her attention to me on most afternoons, offering sexual favors in exchange for gifts.

It was utter perfection. Every piece of my plan had fit snugly together. Bulla was mine; all mine, to have and to hold, and her mother was none the wiser. During the cold nights I was privy to her small body curled before mine and I could finally stroke her blue locks while she slept.

Bulla drew her tongue along my length. "Are you gonna bring me to the mall after this?"

I nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes, anything you want." My eyes rolled back when her fingernails ran along my stomach, hooking on my hips. "Ungh, Bulla, _please_ stop being such a tease."

"Well talking on the phone while I'm trying to blow you is really rude," she murmured, leveling her cerulean eyes with mine. "Especially when you're talking to my mom. Weirdo."

In a flash of movement I had her pinned underneath me by her skinny wrists. She squirmed and pouted but began to laugh when my lips were on her neck, pulling ferociously with the intent of leaving marks. Her mother attributed them to some silly teenage boy—Bulla would roll her eyes and shrug until she left the room. She would smirk at me; lick her lips. I was bewitched.

We sank together in a mixture of feminine mewls and deep growls, writhing together in ecstasy amid the tousled sheets. My porcelain nymphet's lean legs wrapped around my waist: she was an image of beauty, bathed in hues of blue, white, and pink. My name slipped through her swollen lips like a prayer and I wondered if I would ever be able to quit her. Her small hands grasped my back, scratching and straining my muscle the closer she came to—

There was a distinctive slamming noise downstairs. Bulla quickly covered my mouth with both of her hands and panted in shallow breaths underneath me, eyes wide with fear.

"Hey, Bulla, are you here?"

I withdrew from her tantalizing wetness and grasped her cheeks between my fingers, shaking her irately. "Why is your damn brother always waltzing in here, hm?!"

My nymphet shoved me away and rolled off the bed to scramble into her clothes while I did the same with a pounding pulse. All of my thoughts swirled with lust as I watched Bulla struggle into her small bra and wriggle her hips into jeans that were too tight to leave much to my imagination. My belt slithered through the loops when feet began climbing the stairs at a slow pace and she flipped her hair over her shoulder to pull it into a loose ponytail.

I was shoved into her desk chair and she climbed into my lap, flipping open her math textbook in the next instant to the quadratic formula. I'd never been more uncomfortable and desperate—her hips shifted several times as she tried to find a comfortable position and I channeled my remaining willpower into appearing nonchalant. Trunks was going to blow a gasket seeing his sister on my lap.

Bulla suddenly threw her arms around my neck. "Oh Gohan, thank you for saving me!"

The bedroom door opened and my fellow half-Saiyan peered inside, blinking in surprise at his sobbing sister flung across my body. He looked at me quizzically and I shrugged while keeping my hands free of Bulla's tiny waist. That would certainly incite a brother's rage.

She looked up at Trunks, eyes shimmering. Where had her tears come from? "Trunks! Thank god you're here!" She leapt off my lap to hug her brother and clutched the front of his t-shirt. "I brought a boy here and he attacked me! We were doing homework and… and… I can't stand thinking about it!"

"Wha… what?!" Trunks said, flabbergasted. "Bulla, you're too young to have boys here! What the hell did he do?!" His face turned fifty shades of red and he grimaced. "Ugh, nevermind, I can smell it."

"I snuck him in when Gohan wasn't paying attention!" she wailed. "He heard me yelling and came running and I've been crying ever since he kicked the boy out! I just wanted to do my math homework, Trunks. Why are boys so cruel?!"

"M-maybe you should go back to G-Gohan," Trunks stammered, trying to pry free of his sister's death grip. He looked at me pleadingly. "Right, Gohan? You're better at this stuff."

Oh, she was a duplicitous little minx, worthy of my affection.

Then she was in my lap again and I was granted permission to wrap my arms around her, dreaming of the moment her brother walked out the door and left us alone. Trunks was staring in confusion at her and slowly shaking his head while she continued to sob melodramatically into my chest. Genius. She'd established me as both sexless and a scapegoat to emotion in his eyes.

Bewildered, Trunks turned to me. "So what'd you do with the kid? How old was he?"

"Young," I said. "Too young to properly punish. Bulla will be fine after a bath and some more math problems."

He was blinking rapidly, still stunned. "Oh… yeah. Geez, thanks a lot, Gohan. It's a good thing you were here to keep an eye on her. I was stopping by to see if she knew what was up with mom—she's been avoiding me a lot recently. Do you have any ideas?"

I pursed my lips. "No, none at all."

"Alright, figured I'd drop by and ask. Uh… I've got a big date with Paris so… do you mind…?"

"Of course not. The woes of hormone-fueled affection are my specialty."

Trunks laughed. Yes, trust me. "Guess so. Call me if she gets worse or needs anything."

It appeared that the eldest Briefs child wished to stay longer but was negatively affected by his sister's turbulent emotions. He waved again and left from whence he came, offering Bulla and I the safety of solitude once more. She sat up and pulled her hair from the ponytail to brush her fingers through it. Her eyes were already drying as if she had never begun her waterworks display.

She kissed me chastely on the lips and rose. "Ugh, he's such a pain sometimes, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. I think he bursts in here hoping he'll catch me having sex but that'll never happen now, thanks to some professional acting by yours truly."

"You are truly perfidious, Miss Briefs."

"I dunno what that means so I'm gonna assume it's a good thing." Bulla glanced at me over her shoulder like I was an afterthought. "What are you staring at, old man?"

"You. I wasn't through with you when Trunks rudely interrupted."

"Uh, yeah, I'm not in the mood after my brother almost catches us doing it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Bulla Briefs, lie down in your bed or you will not be going to the mall this evening."

Bulla's arms were raised in mid-swipe of her long tresses and her shoulders stiffened. She dropped her hair and whirled around to face me, seething. "Gohan Son, you don't tell me what to do."

Testosterone was still rife within me, coursing through my veins like a drug. I rose from the chair abruptly and Bulla started in surprise before beginning to back away from me. She reached the wall and flattened herself against while I in turn flattened against her pliant shape, eager and frustrated. We were an intriguing pair—neither would yield and both were adroit manipulators, well-versed in the concept of twisting others to view us in an appealing light.

Her fingers pulled on my hair and I rolled her skin between my teeth, intent on leaving behind whatever evidence I could of our encounter. Bulla was _mine_. Her teachers could gasp and wonder and ask "what boy?" and I knew precisely what smile would cross her lips and what mollifying angle her head would tilt to. What boy? Any boy. Whichever gangly teenage boy appeared appropriate for my nymphet.

An agitated huff of cotton candy breath ghosted across my shoulder. "Quit biting me like that! Mom always notices and yells at me about it."

"Wear a turtleneck," I mumbled into her clavicle.

"No, those things are fugly. Just stop giving me hickies."

The phone rang when we were in bed together once again. I'd left my glasses on and they were fogging from the sticky heat beneath Bulla's sheets; all I could hear were her whimpers and my heady panting into the crux of her shoulder. I rocked inside her in slow, calculating movements to ensure I could fully enjoy each moment of nirvana before the end, when she would push me away and take a shower. Her fingernails bit into my shoulder blades.

"Gohan, it's your mother!" screeched a familiar voice over the voicemail machine. "Your brother is having a baby so it would be nice if you could call me back!"

The back of my neck prickled with irritation. Bulla was utterly indifferent to the message and continued to eagerly accept me with sweat beading upon her brow. Her bed had become quite loud and creaky.

"We have all been _very _understanding about your divorce but now it's time for you to think of other people for once! You're always hiding away in that office of yours at Capsule Corp., doing all that nonsense busywork, and you never notice when important events happen!"

My teeth came together with an audible snap. Mother, mother, don't test my patience.

Chi-Chi sighed, still on the answering machine. "I'm glad Goten is more like his father."

Bulla laughed when I turned her on to her stomach and resumed thrusting into her far more aggressively. I curled my fingers in her hair to push her face into the pillows, trying to stifle her giggles, but it only served to make her titillate with greater ferocity.

"Mommy issues?" she asked mordantly.

"To the same degree of your daddy issues, Bulla." I forced her into the pillows again and draped myself across her back, possessing and domineering. "Now be a good girl and stay quiet."

We both reached completion not long after my mother's vicious message and Bulla staggered out of bed, legs visibly trembling on her way to the bathroom. I followed her, reeling from Chi-Chi's interruption, and stepped into the shower with my nymphet. Her expression communicated that I was not welcome but she relented silently and began washing her hair.

Hesitant, I reached up to touch her hands on her scalp and she paused before letting them drop to her sides. I massaged the shampoo through her blue locks, hardly daring to breathe. She leaned her head back to blink up at me while I cleaned her hair and water cascaded down the front of her body.

"You should be nice to your mom," Bulla said.

"Why is that?"

The water fell around us in a warm spray. She was quiet for several minutes.

"I dunno. I just think you'll regret it. Make sure you clean the ends, too. I don't want them to split."

We washed one another and dressed to visit the mall, the only place Bulla truly cared about. Her education was a hit or miss—staying up late to sneak into my bedroom while Bulma slept was making waking in the morning for school more and more difficult.

I set Bulla loose in the mall to socialize and shop with her friends and she reached into my pocket to withdraw money, skipping away before I could protest. With a defeated sigh, I collapsed on a bench and idly watched the shoppers drifting by in search of Christmas sales. It was shaping up to be a quiet afternoon and, if Bulla found what she wanted, I would be dually rewarded at home.

My eyes roamed across the crowd until they settled upon a short woman facing the pet store with both of her hands on the glass. While I stared curiously, she turned and her blue eyes met mine. My breath caught in my throat, burning to escape.

_Videl_.


End file.
